Rituals and Consequences
by mmagicwolf
Summary: Harrison Potter's heritage forces him to face the corruption in magic and nature caused by the war between the light and the dark. Neither side is aware of the consequences of their actions, but Harrison now must live on the knife edge between them to return the balance. Hopefully to survive with his sanity intact. (AU from book 1)
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Harrison Potter's heritage forces him to face the corruption in magic and nature caused by the war between the light and the dark. Neither side is aware of the consequences of their actions, but Harrison now must live on the knife edge between them to return the balance. Hopefully he can survive with his sanity intact.

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

Rituals and Consequences

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter One: The Birthday Boy

The telephone rang at 4 Privet Drive on June 16, 1991 a few minutes before nine in the morning. Petunia Dursley picked up the handset and spoke sweetly, "Dursley Residence. … You did? … Oh dear. Well, we'll find someone else to take care of it." She hung up and turned an angry face to her husband Vernon, "Arabella can't take the boy. She broke her leg. We'll have to take him with us to the zoo."

Before Vernon Dursley could reply, heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs. "Wake up! Wake up! It's my birthday, today!" yelled a whiny voice from the stairs, punctuating each sentence with the thud of jumping on the stairs. Followed by the appearance of an eleven-year-old boy about four and a half feet tall and almost that wide. He thundered into the dining area to examine his birthday presents. Dudley Dursley resembled nothing so much as a whale with arms and legs, but his intellect was not as great. He examined the stack of presents set to one side of the table and laboriously began to count them. After counting the presents twice, he glared at his father, "Thirty six, there are **only** thirty six! That's two less than last year."

"Darling, did you count the one from Aunt Marge in the living room?" asked Vernon.

Dudley's face compressed itself into the scowl of an oncoming temper tantrum, but was interrupted by his mother, "Popkin, when we go to the zoo, we'll get you two more presents, okay?" Dudley's features compressed in thought rather than rage as he tried to calculate then cleared as his mother told him, "Thirty nine, that's one more than last year. Thirty nine presents for my darling boy. That's one more than last year."

Vernon chuckled fondly, "That's my boy, wants his money's worth."

Harrison James Potter carefully removed two slices of bacon from the skillet and carefully turned the remaining to allow them to crisp. His grimaced at the exchange behind his back, his cousin could not even do the simple addition of thirty seven plus two. Sighing, he turned the bacon over and placed another two slices of toast in the toaster. Perhaps he would get lucky and he would get a full meal this morning, but it seemed unlikely. He usually suffered for Dudley's temper tantrums, but maybe they would leave him behind and he could finish his homework that the teacher had been demanding.

"What are we going to do with him?"

"We can leave him home."

"Vernon, there isn't anyone to watch him," reminded Petunia.

Vernon muttered a moment then said, "We'll just have to take him with us."

Dudley's clearing features immediately crumpled in anger. "I don't want him to come with me to the zoo! Daddy, tell him he can't come."

Fortunately for the peace of the household, the doorbell rang announcing the arrival of Piers Polkiss and his mother. Piers was as skinny as Dudley was fat, but they were best friends; Piers would chase smaller children down and hold them while Dudley punched them. Mrs. Polkiss left and the two boys returned to the kitchen.

Harrison looked down at the bacon, pulling it from the skillet just before it burned and wondered about the zoo. Pictures were fine, if only in the books at school, but the most interesting animal he had encountered had been a salamander. No animals dared enter the yard surrounding the Dursley home; he had never even seen a ladybug on Petunia's flowers, and he would know, after all he was the one who took care of the yard.

Placing the bacon and hash browns on the table, Harrison returned to the stove to get the sausages, eggs, and fried tomatoes. All were placed on the table followed by the toast rack. The two slices of bacon and the slice of toast that got too dark were to be his breakfast. Vernon and Petunia were silent as they ate their breakfast, but Dudley and Piers squabbled over who had gotten a larger serving of eggs. Vernon settled the argument by placing another half-spoonful on Dudley's plate.

Harrison walked to the car, half anticipating the zoo and half dreading the outing with the Dursleys. He had changed into his second-best outfit, a marginally better fitting shirt and pants that were only seven inches too big in the waist and two inches too short, Dudley had outgrown them four years ago. This pair of pants was wearing thin, but if they wore out he would be forced to wear the pair of pants from when Dudley had turned nine. That was an awful pair of orange trousers that Aunt Marge had sent for Christmas the year that Dudley turned eight; they were the right length, but so heavy and hideous that Dudley had refused to even touch them.

"Don't even think about doing anything, boy," growled Vernon as Harrison was about to get into the back seat.

"Yes, sir," replied Harrison. "Er, no sir," he amended as Vernon scowled. He hoped nothing would happen today. He wanted to go to the zoo and pretend that he was actually a part of a family. Not that he knew that much about families, but he occasionally dreamed of a laughing red-haired woman and three men who smiled back at her. If he wanted to pretend that the Dursleys actually cared about him, perhaps he would feel like he did in the dreams; safe and loved, but that was a lie and he knew it. He just needed to pretend every now and then, before being thrown back into reality and hell.

Please be kind in your reviews as this is our first story.


	2. Chapter 2: Luncheon With the Animals

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

Rituals and Consequences

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Two: Luncheon with the Animals

Sunday, June 16, 1991

The drive to Chessington Zoo was only half an hour long, which Harrison saw as a blessing. Dudley and Piers were just starting to get bored with the new pinball game that Dudley had received as a birthday present and as the last candy in the bag of sweets was peeled and tossed into Dudley's mouth just as the car entered the carpark. Harrison had been scared that Dudley would use him to relieve his boredom and then something would happen, something strange. The last time Dudley had him cornered, he had tried to jump on top of the rubbish bins behind the school, but ended on the roof with no clue how he had gotten there.

The teachers had yelled at him for going somewhere forbidden, and Vernon had beaten him and locked him in his room for a week. Worse, when he returned to school, it was to find that the work he had missed was to be counted as undone and he would be given no chance to do it. Worst of all, of course, was that his now failing grade removed his library privileges for the rest of the term and he was forced to remain in class with Dudley sitting directly behind him "to keep an eye on him." "Fist or foot, more likely," had grumbled Harrison under his breath, but knew better than to say it aloud and just gritted his teeth.

"Out, boy!" growled Vernon, "and no funny business!"

Harrison nodded and got out of the car, almost instinctively avoiding the kick Dudley sent his way to hurry him along. Dudley's toes impacted the side of the car and he yelped.

"Boy!" hissed Vernon.

"I did not wish to be kicked, sir," said Harrison.

Vernon casually struck out with a fist and clouted Harrison on the ear. It was still early so no one saw what happened except Dudley and Piers who both laughed. Petunia heard the laughter and said, "Duddykins, Piers, come along now, if we hurry we can get candy floss before they start feeding the tigers. You wanted to watch that didn't you?"

–O–

Harrison followed the Dursleys plus Piers through the entrance gate of the zoo. The lady watching the turnstiles handed him a map and stamped his hand to indicate that he had a paid admission. Harrison smiled at the mark on his hand, perhaps he could go see the reptiles first. Once through the turnstiles, Dudley started whining about his promised candy floss. A purchase of two large packages of candy floss later, Vernon led the way to the tiger exhibit.

Dudley wanted to see the tigers being fed, so Harry followed, keeping enough distance between himself and the Dursleys to avoid being punched, kicked, poked, or slapped. When Dudley and Piers got bored with watching the tigers, the group moved on to the primate area. Dudley and Piers watched the monkeys swinging from the branches in their enclosure, but soon wanted more excitement. Dudley poked Piers, "Hey, what can we throw at them?"

Piers looked around, but saw nothing nearby, which Harrison thought a relief. He wanted to see the reptiles next, but he was doomed to disappointment.

"The aquarium!" demanded Dudley, "I want to see the sharks."

"I don't know if they have any sharks," said Vernon.

"I want to see sharks! Or at least killer whales!" insisted Dudley.

"Let's go to the aquarium and see what they have," soothed Petunia.

Harrison followed, carefully aware of the distance between himself and Dudley. Harrison also read the plaques for the animals and habitats that they passed but did not pause to see. He wanted to go into the aviary, but it was not on the way to the aquarium and was therefore skipped. The aquarium was fascinating to Harry, the cool blue light after the bright sunshine outside soothed the senses, but he was jolted back to attention by an elbow in the ribs by Piers.

Not five minutes after they had entered the aquarium, Dudley started complaining, "Daddy, I'm hungry."

"We're going to see the sharks, remember Popkin?" saidd Petunia.

"When are we going to eat?"

"As soon as we've seen the sharks," said Vernon

"Do they have anything good to eat here?" asked Piers, not really hungry, but playing along with Dudley; besides, he had no interest in sharks.

"Yes, we will go and get dinner in the restaurant after the sharks," said Petunia.

The sharks were duly examined. "They're not doing anything. Daddy, make them do something interesting. When do they feed them? I wanted to see them being fed. Mummy, I'm hungry."

"Yes, Popkin, we are going to the restaurant now," said Petunia.

–O–

Harrison eyed the walls of the restaurant with interest. The murals had monkeys and other animals peering out of the jungle foliage. Yet even more impressive to Harrison was the menu. He was actually going to eat at the same time as the Dursleys. He read the menu, considering what the Dursleys and Piers would probably select. A waiter approached and asked what they wished to drink. Vernon ordered sodas for everyone except Petunia, who had a sparkling water. Harrison would have preferred water or milk, but did not wish to call attention to himself. The waiter returned with the drinks and Vernon ordered two full-size cheeseburgers with chips, two vegetarian burgers, and a child's cheeseburger. The waiter nodded, repeated the order, and left.

–O–

"Daddy," whined Dudley, "I'm hungry."

"Dudley, my boy, the food will be here any time. Look, here comes the waiter now," said Vernon.

Harrison had already seen the waiter approach and was startled at the tray the man carried. He had never seen such large hamburgers, and there were enough chips to keep even Dudley occupied for a few minutes. Even the child's cheeseburger was larger than he was accustomed to seeing. Dudley got such things when he went out with his parents, but all Harrison ever got was the wrappers that Dudley discarded on the table beside the couch.

The waiter placed the vegetarian burgers in front of Vernon and Dudley, only to be stopped by Dudley's, "Daddy, you promised me a cheeseburger!"

Vernon glared at the waiter who exchanged the vegetarian burger for one of the adult cheeseburgers, placed the remaining food on the table without attempting to determine whose food was whose, and hurried away.

Harrison was handed the plate with the child's cheeseburger on it, and he prepared to cut into the burger.

"Not yet, boy," growled Vernon, "Dudley might want some of it."

Harrison's stomach dropped, but he nodded and said, "yes, sir." He carefully cut the burger in half, and then one half in half again and began to eat the quarter. The burger was juicy and delicious, but he was only able to finish the quarter before Dudley was reaching for the other half of his burger. He took the second quarter and ate more slowly, wishing that he had a glass of water. Dudley had finished the other half of Harrison's burger and was working on his fries when the waiter returned.

"Please, sir," said Harrison, "may I get glass of water?"

"And a refill of my soda!" demanded Dudley.

The waiter returned with the requested items. Harrison thanked him and drank some of the water, but Dudley just jabbed his straw into the drink.

"What will you have for dessert?" asked the waiter.

"Two large ice cream mountains, two regular ice cream mountians, and the boy will have..."

"Profiteroles," supplied Harrison, "they're small, sir."

"Profiteroles," confirmed Vernon.

The waiter nodded, he was pretty sure who was going to get the large ice cream mountains, perhaps the chef would be willing to put a small scoop of ice cream with the profiteroles, the smallest boy seemed the only polite one in that bunch.

Dessert was duly served, with the two large ice cream mountains being placed before Vernon and Dudley. Petunia eyed hers, realized that Vernon was likely to eat at least half of it in addition to his own, and began to eat. Harrison's eyes bulged at the size of his own dessert. There were only twelve small profiteroles, but they had been stacked into a hollow pyramid, with caramel tracery holding them in place and a small scoop of ice cream on the side. Harrison admired the sculpture a moment, then reached out and broke off the top profiterole.

"Daddy, his dessert is bigger than mine!" complained Dudley before reaching over and grabbing the next profiterole down. He popped it into his mouth and grimaced. "It's all air! You can keep it," he grumbled before resuming his attack on his mountain, more a volcano now as the top had been removed and most of the center was gone.

Harrison was allowed to finish his dessert in peace (two pokes from Piers on one side and a glare from Petunia for the low yelp that the almost unconscious kick from Dudley elicited) and he neatly folded his napkin to the side of his plate. Today had been good so far, a tally of five punches from Dudley and a half dozen pokes from Piers was fewer than normal, perhaps the rest of the day would be as good. Harrison wasn't counting on a good day, but it couldn't do any harm to hope, could it?

OOOOOOOOOOO

Please Review. No flames please.


	3. Chapter 3

To those readers who take the time to read this message, I just want to clarify how we are planning on updating. Our goal is to update at least once a month. If we manage to write more than six chapter ahead, we will release more frequently. As fellow readers it is frustrating when authors state how often they plan on updating and then not do it and take months if not years to update again. We always want a least six months worth of chapters that we can release to our readers if anything goes pear-shaped in our private lives, get writers block, or any numerous reasons why we haven't been able to write for several months. As such enjoy the quick succession of chapters while they last.

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

Rituals and Consequences

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Three: Conversations with Intelligent Beings

Sunday, June 16, 1991

A large group of kids accompanied by several adults entered the restaurant just as Dudley was polishing off the remains of Piers' dessert. "Those snakes were awesome!"

"Yeah, did you see the way it swallowed that mouse? Awesome!"

"The guide said that they feed them all while they're on display, maybe we can go back when they're feeding the constrictors."

Agreement rose from about half of the group with the other half declaring they wanted to feed themselves.

–O–

"Daddy, can we go watch the snakes being fed?" asked Dudley. "I want to see a snake crush a mouse! Maybe they'll even feed it a rabbit."

"Yes, Popkin, we will go to the reptile house next."

The Dursleys, plus Piers, hurriedly left the debris of dinner behind, although Harrison gave the waiter an embarrassed shrug in passing and received a nod in return. At least his portion of the table was clean. Harrison figured it would take several minutes to remove the dropped blobs of food from Dudley's culinary peregrinations (stealing other people's food), and he had noticed several candy wrappers had mysteriously appeared on the floor beside Dudley, Petunia must have sneaked him a couple to maintain the peace until the food arrived.

The waiter examined the table, noticed the same things that Harrison had, but sighed and went to warn the busboy before he approached the birthday party group that had just entered. They at least seemed well-behaved, and hopefully would provide a bonus for good service.

–O–

The reptile house was underground, something that Petunia did not appreciate. She passed as quickly as she could through the building and told Vernon, "I'll meet you next to the gift shop on the other side."

Vernon nodded at her, glared at Harrison, and pointed out the false water cobra, indicated by the plaque next to its habitat.

"It's boring, Daddy. I wanted to see them feed the snakes."

Vernon looked along the wall and hurried Dudley and Piers to the window looking into the habitat of the Sri Lankan python.

Harrison looked at the false water cobra and murmured, "You would think that he had not eaten in weeks, everything revolves around food and feeding."

"Well, young sir, I thought he was a tapir; they are always thinking about their next meal. Even in the middle of their current one."

"A tapir? What is that?"

"A tapir is a large mammal with a prehensile nose; the young have horizontal stripes, but the adults are solid colored. They are good eating for a jaguar, but I couldn't eat one; I prefer small rodents, they don't struggle as much."

Harrison glanced up at that comment, but saw no one nearby, he had thought he had missed the approach of a zoo guide, but the only thing in sight was the snake. "You can talk?"

"Of course, I can talk. The question is, can most people understand? And the answer, young sir, is no."

"Boy! Get over here," yelled Vernon.

"Sorry, I must go," apologized Harrison.

The snake murmured, "The adult tapir bellows, or perhaps it is something else? No matter, good to speak with you, young speaker."

–O–

While Vernon had his attention distracted, Dudley was busy thumping on the glass, trying to get the Sri Lankan python to move. He completely ignored the sign, "Do not touch or tap on the glass."

The python lounged on a large branch, ignoring the small rabbit that hopped below it in the wood shavings. The python also ignored the rude visitor who was trying to get her attention. All of her attention was on the approaching figure; there was a distinctive aura to those who could speak to snakes, and this one approaching seemed to have it. "Do you understand speech, young sir?" she asked as the boy approached.

"Yes," he replied in a low voice, "but these?" he pointed at the Dursleys and Piers and shrugged.

"Stop whistling, boy!" roared Vernon. "Unless you think that it will get this blasted snake to move?" He produced a piercing whistle that sent the rabbit hopping away, but the python remained still.

"Daddy, it isn't doing anything!" whined Dudley. "Make it move!"

"Tell it the Jamaican Boa is eating his rabbit. I prefer not to eat in public," advised the python.

Harry nodded, "Sir, perhaps one of the other snakes is eating; I understand that the Jamaican Boa might put on a show."

Dudley immediately grabbed his father's hand and dragged him along the wall, "Let the freak watch this snake do nothing, I want to see blood."

"He'll be doomed to disappointment," murmured the python. "We crush our prey into an unrecognizable mass before eating, but perhaps he will find that amusing."

"Probably," replied Harrison, "but hopefully it will not give him too many ideas."

"Ideas, young sir?"

"Ways to torture me, I mean. Dudley and his friends make a game of chasing me and then beating me. They call it 'Harry Hunting.' They seem to find it less amusing when I am able to avoid them."

"Have you no protector, young sir?" asked the python in astonishment. "No speaker should be without protection; it violates the rules set forth by Kali for us. We snakes are always supposed to protect the speakers. You are still young, how many rains have you seen?"

"Rains?" asked Harry, "I will be eleven at the end of July."

"Ten rains? Your protector must be going mad trying to find you. Speakers and protectors connect shortly after the speaker first speaks." her tongue flicked out and said, "Your pardon if I seem impolite, but that rabbit looks tasty, do you mind if I eat while we talk?"

"Of course not, ma'am."

Her head bobbed in thanks and hissed, "Wonderful, and such a polite little speaker you are!"

Harrison could hear the smile in her voice. While he looked on, she struck with lightning speed at the hapless rabbit, threw her tail around the rabbit twice and squeezed. She opened her jaw widely, dislocated the hinge, and worked her head over that of the rabbit. Within seconds, the rabbit's head was halfway down her throat.

Dursley chose that moment to arrive and yell, "Hey, freak! Why didn't you tell me she had killed the rabbit?" The question was punctuated by a shove. "I wanted to see her start eating it!"

Harrison fell against the glass and stared up at Dudley, his glasses had fallen to the ground and the bridge had broken cleanly in half. He squinted up at Dudley, but was unable to make out more than a pale blur in the light from the snake's habitat. He was not pleased that his conversation with the python had been interrupted, it was the first intelligent conversation he had experienced since the last trip to the school library.

Dudley was too busy yelling at Piers and Vernon to come and see the snake eating to notice where he was putting his feet. A crunch told Harrison that his glasses were now beyond repair. Harrison's frustration grew as Vernon and Piers who shoved him aside in their rush to see the snake eating. Harrison was fortunate that he fell next to the glasses, but the broken frame dug into one of his palms. Ignoring the pain, he gathered the pieces of the glasses and tucked them into the pocket of his pants.

Reluctant to be stared at while she was eating, the python released her tail from the rabbit and climbed back up onto the branch, the rabbit hanging out of her mouth. Dudley and Piers started pounding on the glass as soon as she turned her back, trying to get her to show off as she ate.

Harison heard a muffled, "Be quite, you foolish human. Do you not understand that a lady does not like to be watched as she eats?" and started giggling.

"What are you laughing at, boy?" demanded Vernon.

"Maybe she does not like an audience as she eats," said Harrison.

"Are you crazy, boy?" roared Vernon.

"No, but your other two boys are," said a reptile keeper who had come in. "I was cleaning some of the cages, and I've never heard such a racket in my life! Can't you read? No tapping includes pounding. It might cost my job if snakes bit someone after the glass broke; but you, sir, would almost deserve being bitten for failing to control your brats."

"Please sir," asked Harrison softly, tugging at the man's sleeve, "are the snakes okay?"

"The snakes are fine, son, but I cannot, for the life of me, figure out what these other two boys are thinking. Pounding on the glass when the sign next to the glass plainly states, 'Do not touch or top on the glass' is the action of an idiot."

Vernon blustered about it all being a mistake and the boy's fault that his son had not seen the snake eating, when the python finished her meal and turned back to the glass.

"I am Silsilah. I like you, young speaker, but I do not like these others."

"I am Harrison. Please, do not do anything too hasty, Vernon would love to have an excuse to punish me again."

"Very well, young speaker Harrison," said Silsilah, "but..." The python raised her head to stare at Dudley intently. Then lifted the front third of her body from her position on the branch, shifted her weight forward and struck at the glass.

Please review but no flames please, as stated previously, this is our first story that has managed to reach paper.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

Rituals and Consequences

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Four: A Strike, Four Fools, and You're Outta Here!

Sunday, June 16, 1991

Dudley and Piers leaped back squealing in unison, and Vernon yelped, but the reptile keeper just laughed as Silsilah's nose stopped an inch short of the glass. "That's Rashmi for you, she has never really liked attention, especially rude attention."

"That was a false strike?" asked Harrison, who had managed to put one of the lenses from his broken glasses over an eye to see.

"Yes, indeed. Rashmi does that every now and then. She seems to know exactly how far she can extend her strike so that she does not strike the glass. Well if these three are done in the reptile house, I will go back to my duties. Would you like to see the incubation room?"

Harrison's agreement was drowned out by Vernon's anger, "There is no way that you are going to take that boy and show him something that my son and his friend are not invited to see! The very idea is ridiculous! All he did was cower on the floor, and you want to reward him? Are you mad?"

The reptile keeper glared at Vernon, said, "You, sir, are an idiot and a fool," and left the room through a door that Harry now saw was concealed in the wall of the room.

Vernon gathered Dudley, Piers, and Harrison together and herded them toward the gift shop where Petunia was waiting. Dudley was crying, "I just wanted to see the snake eating, but the freak made me miss it," by the time they reached Petunia.

"Oh, my sweet Duddyums, what's wrong?" cooed Petunia, then turned to snarl at Harrison, "What did you do, boy? And where are your glasses?"

"I did nothing," said Harrison honestly, "and Dudley stepped on my glasses and broke them."

"Liar!" hissed Vernon. "You did something to that snake, I don't know what but you did something."

I did something? fumed Harrison silently, I talked to the snake, but you weren't there when I had the conversation, and neither was Dudley. I did not pound on the glass or annoy her. Anyway why is everything my fault? "How is it my fault that Dudley broke my glasses?" he asked. He knew better; he really did, but the question slipped out and Harrison inwardly cringed. His questions were always punished in the Dursley household, always.

"Boy! Go to the carpark now. Sit by the car and wait for us," ordered Petunia.

"Yes, ma'am," said Harrison obediently and turned away.

"And no funny stuff!" ordered Vernon.

"No, sir." Harrison left the Dursleys plus Piers to their day at the zoo while he went to the carpark to wait.

–O–

As Harrison left the zoo, the attendant at the gate gave him a note. He slipped the note next to the pieces of his glasses and hurried to the car. When he was safely out of sight of the gate, he unfolded the note and read the message. "When you come back, tell the attendant that William told you to ask about Rashmi." Harrison smiled and refolded the note. He would remember.

It was hot in the carpark, a lack of water made waiting for an indeterminate time almost unbearable, but Harrison had practice. Being locked in his room forced him to practice some form of meditation to make time pass more bearably; not that he called it meditation, but such it was. Harrison sat in the scanty shade of the Dursleys' car and proceeded to attempt to remember all of the plaques he had seen in the zoo. He pulled out the map and marked each spot he had been able to read the plaque by pressing the paper with his fingernail. He was surprised to see that he had gotten to see almost a third of the zoo, but not the wolf enclosure that lay partially atop the reptile house, not the safari exhibit that made up almost a third of the zoo. According to the back of the map, the safari exhibit contained almost thirty species of animals. Harrison wished he could have gone with the Dursleys, but he was accustomed to unfairness.

Harrison was already mapping out his route for his next visit, despite not knowing when that visit might be, nonetheless it occupied the time and he reviewed all he knew about the various animals marked on the map from sources at the school library. He had just considered all he knew about Grey's zebras when he heard the commotion. Judging from the sound of things, something had happened and it boded ill for him.

–O–

Harrison stood up and looked across the carpark toward the front gate of the zoo, and giggled at the sight of who was now leaving the zoo, despite having to use both hands to hold the parts of his glasses to his face. All of the Dursleys plus Piers were wearing teeshirts that announced they were visitors of the Chessington Zoo, but it was the clothing on the lower half of their bodies that had Harrison giggling. Petunia looked almost normal despite the brilliant turquoise walking shorts that flashed from beneath the teeshirt. Dudley was attired in a pair of camouflage shorts that combined the most bilious shade of green and two shades of brown that could only be described as new dung and old dung. Piers had a bright pink pair of shorts that had contrasting neon yellow flowers. But it was Vernon who was truly ridiculous. He was wearing two sarongs in lime green with brilliant orange, red, and yellow flowers. They were knotted at each hip to provide some coverage and hung like a skirt to below his knees. Vernon also carried two bags marked "Chessington Zoo Gift Shop" at arms length. The raised voices as the group approached the car were easily comprehensible, but gave no clues at to what happened. Harrison had no idea of the explanation for the display and was smart enough not to ask.

"They should have posted a sign!" roared Vernon.

"Oh! My poor Duddykins, your Daddy will see that we can come back to the zoo for free," cooed Petunia.

"Daddy, I don't like the zoo! I want to go home now!" sobbed Dudley.

"Oh, my darling Popkin, your Daddy will get the zoo to pay for this," said Petunia.

"Darn right they will," roared Vernon. "I can't believe that they don't have the right size for a real man."

Piers' raised voice chimed in, "I wanted to see the lions!"

"I wanna go home!" shrieked Dudley, "I wanna go home now!"

As the quartet approached the car where Harrison waited, they scowled in unison. "It is all your fault, boy," hissed Vernon.

Harrison was caught off guard enough to ask, "What is my fault?" before cringing internally and shifting out of range of Vernon's fists.

"Everything!" hissed Vernon. "Now get in the car."

–O–

Harrison was seated in the middle of the back seat, between Dudley and Piers who each had a window. All four windows of the car were rolled down and the trek homeward began. Harrison's stomach churned at the stench coming from the two boys and the bags behind him. The airflow in the car seemed to concentrate all of the aroma around him, but he knew he had to endure. Being sick in the car would give Vernon another excuse to punish him and had already provided enough of those by asking questions.


	5. Chapter 5: Injury to Insult

To those who take the time to read this. We are on the hunt for the worst, most terrible, and hated elementary teacher's names. Please leave us a comment and a name in your reviews on your opinion of teacher's names that will be hated and loathed by the readers in coming chapters.

**Happy Memorial Day, a small present for everyone.**

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

**Rituals and Consequences**

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

**Chapter Five: Injury to Insult**

Sunday, June16, 1991

Harrison managed to get home without becoming physically ill, but it was a close thing. His determination not to provide Vernon with another excuse for punishment and his empty stomach contributed greatly to his self-control, but so did his experience with jobs such as cleaning the Dursleys' bathrooms, especially after Vernon had been out partying with his coworkers at Christmas.

When they arrived at 4 Privet Drive, Dudley and Piers rushed for the front door and shoved past Petunia as soon as she had unlocked it. Vernon scowled between the front seats, "Take those two bags to the laundry and clean them. Got it, boy?"

"Yes, sir," responded Harrison carefully, trying to let his stomach settle. Harrison carried the two bags into the laundry area and opened one. The shirt that Dudley had worn to the zoo was covered in what could only be fresh dung. Harrison winced at the smell and dropped the contents of both bags into the sink and ran water over them to remove the worst of the filth. Then he dropped them into the washing machine and set it for the longest cycle.

Knowing the habits of the Dursleys, Harrison made a selection of sandwiches from the contents of the refrigerator. Six of the sandwiches two oranges, a pear, the end of the block of cheese, and two jugs of water completed his preparations and were surreptitiously placed in the cupboard under the stairs, indicated as his room by the sign just inside the door, "Harrison's Room," He had made that sign in his Nursery class, and his teacher had been impressed with his writing skill. She didn't understand, because Harrison never told her, that it was to remind himself of his name. He had never been called anything but "boy" or "freak" before nursery school, and he found it difficult that first term to remember that his name was Harrison and to respond when it was called. Food requirements taken care off for the next week, week and a half if he was careful, Harrison emerged from his room.

–O–

Hearing the cessation of noise that indicated that the washing machine was finished, Harrison returned to the laundry to check on the clothes. They were mostly clean, so he put more soap into the machine and restarted it. He was back in the kitchen and preparing tea when Vernon came roaring out of the bathroom, "Who used all of the hot water?"

"The freak did it, Daddy," said Dudley, sneering from the floor of the living room where he was lounging with Piers watching television and eating a bag of crisps.

"Boy! Room! Now!" yelled Vernon.

Harrison quietly entered the cupboard under the stairs and sat down on the old mattress that occupied most of the floor.

Petunia immediately locked the door behind him and hissed venomously through the vent, "You'll be lucky if you get out before summer."

–O–

You would think that a cupboard under the stairs would be dirty from the dust of the stairs above, but such was not the case in this particular cupboard. The walls had been painted white at some time in the past, and Harrison had found the remnants of that paint in the garage and had repainted the walls until they were a brilliant white. Some light came from places where the riser and stair tread did not quite meet, but most of the illumination was from the grille in the door. Harrison found the dimness soothing; a feeling, not distinct enough to be called memory, of on a pale white light, a flash of mixed grey and brown, and warmth.

The mattress was covered with a thin blanket, worn-out when it was received, but Harrison had managed to fold it in such a way that it provided adequate warmth in the summer. A pillow that everyone else in the household had declared too flat was tucked into the space between the end of the mattress and the lowest stair. A small stack of books, rescued from the rubbish bin at school were tucked away there as well, too far from the door to be seen by Petunia on the rare occasions she put her head into the door and in too small a space for Dudley or Vernon to reach.

Knowing that he was to be confined for at least the rest of the day, Harrison extracted the map of the Chessington Zoo and the note from the attendant and placed them with his other treasures. He wished his glasses had not been broken, but at least his nearsightedness allowed him to read despite the handicap. After he was released from the cupboard, he would go to the optometrist and get another pair of glasses from the donation box, after all that is where he had gotten the ten pairs he had worn since nursery school.

–O–

Monday, September 10, 1983

"Harrison, please read the last line of numbers on the board," instructed his teacher.

Harrison tried to make out the numbers, but couldn't distinguish any numbers in the blur of horizontal and vertical confusion. "I'm sorry, ma'am," he apologized, "I can't make any out."

"Come toward the board until you can make out the numbers," she instructed.

Harrison willingly moved forward, interested in what she had been writing on the board. When he got to the front row, he smiled brilliantly, "One, cross, one, two horizontal lines, two, then some space, one cross two, two horizontal lines, three. Excuse me, is there another name for the cross and the two horizontal lines?"

"The cross says plus and is called the addition sign. The two horizontal lines say equals or plus and are an equal sign."

"Thank you, ma'am. Then the board reads, one plus one is two; one plus two is three."

"Very good, Harrison, please be seated on the front row."

Harrison received an evil look from Dudley who was still seated on the back row; now his favorite target was out of reach.

At the end of the school day, Harrison was sent home with a note for Vernon Dursley. The note read: "Dear Mr. Dursley, I do not know if you are aware that your nephew has trouble seeing the chalkboard. I, as your nephew's nursery teacher, recommend that you take him to the optometrist and get him a pair of prescription eyeglasses. Sincerely, Mrs. Smith."

~O~

Monday, September 17, 1983

"Harrison, where are your glasses?"

"I don't have any, ma'am."

"Didn't your uncle take you to the optometrist?"

"He said that freaks don't need glasses. He doesn't want to waste money. He says that I probably won't be any better than my drunk parents who died in a car crash. My aunt says that I should be grateful for a roof over my head and be quiet about needing anything extra."

"Harrison, please give this note to your uncle."

"Yes, ma'am. If Dudley doesn't rip it up."

This second note was similar to the first: "Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, I wrote you a note last week informing you of your nephew's difficulty in seeing the chalkboard. I recommended that you take him to get a pair of glasses. If you truly wish him to do better than his parents, as he informs me, please get glasses so that he can do the work required for school.  
Sincerely, Mrs. Smith."

~O~

Monday, September 24, 1983

"Still no glasses, Harrison?"

"No, ma'am. Uncle Vernon yelled at me for telling you about my parents."

"Did you go to the optometrist?"

"No, ma'am."

That evening two notes were sent home with Harrison Potter. The first said, "Dear Mr. Dursley, I am your nephew's nursery teacher and I would like to congratulate you on a very bright child. I would hate to see his intelligence squandered because he is unable to see the board and thereby follow along with the class. Attached you will find the note that I will be sending to my brother-in-law in the juvenile section of the police department. Please, take your nephew to get prescription eyeglasses immediately. The first few months of school are vital to learning the basics. Sincerely Mrs. Smith."

The second note was addressed to a Sergeant Smith at the police department of Little Whinging, Surrey and was painfully blunt, "I am a nursery teacher for Harrison Potter. This bright young boy lives with his aunt and uncle, Vernon and Petunia Dursley. They also have a son, Dudley, who is grossly obese. They have repeatedly refused to provide Harrison with eyeglasses so that he might see the board and therefore follow along with the rest of the class. The children show signs of what could be either neglect or abuse. Please investigate the matter at your earliest convenience."

Vernon yelled about spending money on the freak, but took him to the optometrist because it was better than displaying anything other than absolute normality. "Outrageous! Highway robbery! Absolutely ridiculous!" Vernon yelled when he returned home with Harrison wearing his new glasses. "Fifty pounds! Fifty! I ask you, have you heard anything so ridiculous? And he expects me to bring the freak back every six months!" Vernon rounded on Harrison. "Freak! If you break those glasses, you will have to find another pair on your own."

Harrison already understood that if anything happened to the glasses it would be considered his fault whether or not it actually was, so he asked his teacher what happened to glasses that were no longer needed. She recommended that he take them to the Lions' Club and place them in the donation box, there they would be distributed to needy children locally and overseas. Harrison asked for the address and she wrote it down in his notebook.

~O~

Wednesday, August 28, 1984

Harrison traveled with Petunia to the Lions' Club and asked if it would be possible to exchange his glasses. After examining several, he found a pair that worked. He thanked the attendant and explained that it was difficult for his aunt to get time off to bring him. He was given the name of an optometrist close to his school that also collected used glasses for charity and a note to give the receptionist about the problem. He thanked her again and caught up to Petunia waiting by the bus stop.

~O~

Friday, September 13, 1984

Harrison walked to the optometrist and talked with the receptionist. After looking at the note, she had him look at the eye chart and take a brief eye test without using the equipment. Satisfied that his current pair of glasses were adequate, she told him to come back at the end of term to check his vision again. "Your vision really shouldn't change that much over the course of the term, but it is better to check frequently, especially during your school years." Harrison thanked her again and wrote down the need to come back in his school notebook.

–O–

Harrison had returned at the end of the term, and at the beginning of every subsequent term. The receptionist became accustomed to this small child who was so polite. She had no contact with his teachers, but she assumed that the child was near the top of his class, especially since he had started to read the magazines in the reception area on his second visit. She slipped in a few children's books with the adult news and nature magazines, but had never seen him open them. The nature magazines seemed his favorite. When asked why, he replied that there was a familiarity to some of the pictures in them.

~O~

Harrison came out of his reverie to the thumping of feet on the stairs. Piers must have gone home while he was lost in memories and Dudley was going to bed. It was the evening of Dudley's birthday and Harrison was never so glad to see a day end.


	6. Chapter 6: Dreams and Nightmares

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

Rituals and Consequences

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Six: Dreams and Nightmares

Monday, June 17, 1991

Harrison rarely remembered his dreams. Or perhaps it is more accurate to say that Harrison never remembered his dreams. His dreams of a family that loved him had been killed long ago, only to be revived as hopes and butchered again. Dreams of embarrassing things occurring at school were his reality, so they held no place in his dreams. Flying, so common in children's dreams, was also repressed; severe punishment by Vernon for mentioning it saw to that. Vernon did not like Harrison to talk about his dreams, ever. It was the second fastest way for Harrison to be punished, right after asking questions.

Thus the dream Harrison had the night after Dudley's birthday was unusual. Harrison remembered it in the morning; it was of two large dogs, one grey and the other black that took turns nuzzling him then rolling him over with their noses under the light of the full moon. A stag and doe walked out of the surrounding forest, but were not attacked as might be expected. Instead the four animals stood tall before him before disappearing in the thunder of Dudley descending the stairs.

–O–

Petunia came to unlock the door and tell him to get up and start breakfast. Harrison shrugged into his everyday clothes and went to the refrigerator to collect the supplies for breakfast. The list posted beside the refrigerator ended with a penalty of one stroke with the belt for each undone task. Harrison winced at the length of the list, Vernon must have decided that it was too much trouble to keep Harrison locked away in the cupboard when he could be given chores and an excuse for more punishment.

Breakfast was prepared and while the Dursleys ate, Harrison started the tasks on the list. He got cleaning supplies from the laundry room, carried them upstairs to Petunia and Vernon's bedroom, stripped the coverlets and pillows from the bed, removed their slips, and placed the bare items in the wardrobe. He repeated the process in Dudley's bedroom and the guest bedroom. Then he moved into the bathrooms and retrieved the laundry collected for the past few days. A trip downstairs with the laundry and a load begun saw the end of breakfast and the washing of the breakfast dishes. Dusting and washing the ceiling, walls, and floor with interruptions for changing the laundry from washer to dryer, starting another load, and putting away the clean laundry, took most of the day. Replacing the bedding, he remade all of the beds and started on the bathrooms. Again the ceiling and walls were dusted and washed, the fixtures cleaned and the floor mopped. A glance at the clock informed Harrison that he had only five minutes to start preparing supper or it would not be on the table when the Dursleys returned, a punishable offense on its own.

The list assured Harrison that he would receive at two stripes from the belt because he had not gone into the yard and mowed the grass with the rotary push mower nor had he weeded the flower beds in the front and back yards. Nonetheless he was satisfied that he would receive fewer this way because the inside chores had been listed individually so that any room skipped would have meant at least ten lashes. Supper was on the table when Dudley stampeded in the door, followed more sedately by Vernon and Petunia. As they sat down to eat, Harrison went outside and weeded the front and back flower beds. This was quickly done because they had been weeded only two days before. A quick pass with the mower around the edges to clean up the lawn and Harrison was done with his chores.

Yet, when Harrison returned to the kitchen to wash up so that he could have his supper, Vernon had his belt out waiting for him. Appended to the list, between the chores that had been their that morning and the penalty had been added three new tasks. Vernon cheerfully handed out the three strokes of the belt and retired for the night, informing Harrison that he should do a better job tomorrow, because he was not getting any supper.

Harrison crawled into his cupboard and lay down exhausted on his mattress. He was asleep almost before we was able to pull the thin cover over himself and fell headlong into a dream.

A scream in the dark followed by a flash of bright green light. The comfort of familiar warm arms replaced by a stranger. The sensation of flying. Cold wind and a crescent moon overhead. Warmth that smothered rather than comforted, then stark cold. A scream of surprise, Aunt Petunia's voice. A murmur of comfort; a woman carrying a torch in the darkness, and a woman with red hair surrounded by three men, two with dark hair and one sandy brown. Two dogs, one grey and one black, and two deer, a male and female, walking out of the forest and into the moonlight followed by a woman carrying a torch that burned with a fire as pale as the moon.

Harrison startled himself awake with the memory of flame, touched the scar on his forehead and fell asleep again.

Two dogs playing in the moonlight. A small child lying between them. Danger approaching and the dogs bare their teeth and growl a warning. Peace returns and the child is safe between the two beasts. Then a flash of green and the child cries out.

Harrison woke himself again with the murmur of "Mama!" too well trained to give full voice to the cry. Tears fell as he rolled over and cried himself back to sleep.

The feel of two furry sides pressed against him brought comfort, but that was only a dream.


	7. Chapter 7: The Steadfast Wanderer

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

Rituals and Consequences

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Seven: The Steadfast Wanderer

Monday, June 17, 1991

Remus Lupin woke up with a headache and his nose slightly creased from the book he had fallen asleep on. The headache was from insufficient sleep, but the book was a translation project for Mr. Chatham. He had fallen asleep just before dawn, and the nightmare had woken him up just an hour later. It wasn't unusual for him to have nightmares, but this one was different. It felt almost happy, like his cub was near, almost in scent range. He glanced up at the moon through the window of his flat, surrounded by books, calculations, and pieces of parchment and paper mixed together across his worktable and murmured a quick prayer to his patron goddess, "Keep him safe, Lady. I am still searching for him. Please, just keep him safe."

He glanced down at the sheet of paper before him and realized that he had fallen asleep halfway through calculating the effects of an anti-apparation ward and an alarm ward cast on the same location. He hoped it would be of use later, he had been working on a method to bypass the wards so that he would be able to pass through them without setting off the alarm. It would be useful when he had his cub back. But... He glanced at the clock. Another three hours until he was supposed to be at work at the zoo. Enough time to get another few pages translated. Mr. Chatham was one of his better customers for translated works, but Mr. Pickering had given his name to enough of his customers to keep Remus busy. The last twelve years had made Remus Lupin Mr. Pickering's favorite translator for ancient Middle Eastern languages.

~O~

October 18, 1978

Three months after graduation, Remus entered Pickering and Chatto in muggle London in an effort to distract himself from his inability to get a job in wizarding Britain and recover his equilibrium from the latest full moon and his transformation into a wolf. Most of the city was too loud for his heightened senses, but the antiquarian bookstore had soothed him with its smell of old leather and the subtle scent of parchment and old paper, familiar scents from seven years in the library at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

He had found an old copy of Cicero and was reading leisurely when a middle-aged man approached him.

"Eton or Oxford?" asked Pickering, late a colonel in the Royal Air Force, on seeing the speed with which Remus was reading.

"A small school  
in Scotland and personal interest," replied Remus.

"Anything else that strikes your interest? I have this lovely Ovid that came in last month."

Remus smiled ruefully, "My interest outstrips my budget, I fear. This little gem," he held up a volume in Arabic dating from the late fifteenth century, "strikes my fancy but is completely beyond my budget. I always enjoyed reading Al-Jayyani."

"You read Arabic as well," asked a startled Pickering.

"Only the old script, I'm afraid," replied Remus. "The language after the seventeenth century changed so much that I must translate the idioms as well as the script."

Pickering's eyes lit up, "Can you translate that for me? I have a rough translation from another source, but it is always best to compare them. I can pay you a small fee, of course."

Remus shook his head in dismay, "I'm only here in London for the day, I'm afraid. It would take me at least a week to translate this. Especially if you want it in modern English."

"Can you work from photographs?"

"Yes, sir. Just have them enlarged to the same size as the original."

Remus supplied the man with Lily's parents' address and left the store to tell Lily and the other Marauders his good news: He had found a part-time job at last. Also, he needed to warn Lily to expect a package from Mr. Pickering through the muggle mail service.

Two weeks later, Remus received a package in the mail; it contained the promised photographs. Remus spent three days transcribing the writing on the photographs onto parchment and another five days to finish the translation.

He returned the translation to Mr. Pickering with a letter thanking him for the photographs and enclosing a summary of the time spent on the translation.

A week after that, a check arrived in the mail.

Remus stared at the amount on the check in disbelief and bemusement. Now he had to go and get a bank account, maybe muggle bankers were more polite than the goblins, but he was uncertain. Hopefully Lily's parents could help him get a bank account in the muggle world.

~O~

Remus shook his head to bring himself back to the present and looked at the clock again. Two hours until he was supposed to be at the zoo. He glanced at the page of Arabic script, _Paradise of Wisdom_ could wait until he got home. He needed at least another hour of sleep.

An hour later, Remus had changed into his uniform for the zoo and left the flat. After crossing the communal garden and entering the copse of trees on the other side, he turned on his heel and apparated to the grove of trees next to the SHS Sports Ground. And walked to the front entrance of the Chessington Zoo. As Remus passed the attendant, he smelled something familiar. It was faint, but it tickled at the edge of his awareness.

Remus took the back ways to the wolf enclosure to begin his day as an assistant to the wolf keeper. His boss, Roger Sheridan, was willing to accept that he did not work on the days around the full moon when he explained his religion required his absence those days. The fact that he was willing to work any other day and at odd hours with little warning helped with that decision. Roger was sad to hear that Remus would be leaving for an extended vacation of least two months in the middle of July, but Remus had promised that he would let Roger know if he would be able to come back after his vacation.

Remus was looking forward to meeting his cub again. He would have to wait until July, but the Hogwarts letter would force Dumbledore to allow his cub back into the wizarding world. There was no other place than Diagon Alley to get all supplies for Hogwarts in one place. Remus planned to stay in Knockturn Alley from the middle of July until the first of September if necessary to ensure that he would find his cub. As soon as Remus had his cub, no one, ever, was going to take Remus' cub away again. He had killed before to protect his pack, and since his cub was all that remained of the Marauder pack, anyone who threatened his cub would suffer the consequences.

Remus growled subvocally, shook his head and returned to the wolf enclosure. The faint scent at the gate this morning lingered in his mind, summoning up the memory of his pack-brother and his cub. When he entered the enclosure he was still in the awkward stage of holding on to his coat without knowing it.

The alpha female of the zoo's pack approached him as he entered the den near the back area of the wolf enclosure, _Hurting, Two-Legs? I am still teaching the cubs to hunt, perhaps you could join us tonight. Hunting soothes all hurt._

_ My apologies, Mother, I miss my brother and my cub, and hunting would make the hurting worse_, replied Remus. And proceeded to renew the bedding, change the water, then carried the empty bucket from the midday meal out of the den. Remus placed the eight rabbits that were to the wolves' evening meal into a cage and walked out into the public area of the enclosure. Two rabbits were placed in each of the four cages spread throughout the enclosure to await their fate at nightfall.

He had gotten the wolf keeper to agree to live meals once per week so that they did not lose their hunting skills and could teach the next generation of cubs how to hunt. The cages had been prepared so that they opened three hours after the timer was set, and the wolves were allowed out of their den a half hour after that. The experience seemed to make the wolves happier, a fact that the wolf keeper noted in his paper accepted for publication in the _Journal of Zoo and Wildlife Medicine_ about the advantages of using more natural feeding routines. Remus was glad that his boss was getting the credit, but had asked to not be mentioned in the article.

His day's job over, Remus returned the cage to the feeding area, cleaned up, and headed toward the front gate. His usual path went through the safari area, but tonight his feet took him through the reptile house and smelled that scent again. Almost familiar, faint through the heavy overtones of human bodies and snake.

_Cub,_ whispered Mooney, _My cub was here_.

Remus was too busy thinking about shopping for something for supper to listen to his wolf.


	8. Chapter 8: Sighting Hinds

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

Rituals and Consequences

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Eight: Sighting Hinds

Monday, June 17, 1991

Sirius Black stared at the wall of his cell. Nine rows of pale grey marks were arranged in a sequence of twelve, twelve, and thirteen, then the sequence repeated. A tenth row had only seven marks, and each time Sirius looked at that final row he remembered. Only five more months until his puppy would start school at Hogwarts. Each mark indicated a full moon, not that he could see the moon from his windowless cell. Nonetheless he knew when a month had passed. He would not be able to say what day of the week or month it was, or even what day in the lunar cycle, but the night of the full moon was marked by a change in his dreams. He wished he didn't have the ability to dream any longer, but part of being an heir to the House of Black was an intimate connection with the dream realm.

~O~

Friday, September 4, 1980

"You guys need to get out," urged Sirius, "I'll watch the puppy. You're beginning to look at the walls a little strangely."

James looked at Sirius, currently sporting purple and green striped hair, "This morning wasn't enough for you, Padfoot?"

"Prongs," retorted Sirius, "you know what I mean. You two have been disappearing for hours at a time, and it hasn't been because of the puppy or to go playing with each other."

"Sirius," growled Lily.

"What?" asked Sirius, then realized how Lily was taking that comment. "Sorry, Lily; I didn't mean that the way it came out. I meant you and Prongs have been up to something, and it's something that has been worrying him. Anything that can worry Prongs, worries me."

"Thanks, Padfoot, but this is personal."

"Prongs, if it has to do with the puppy, it's personal to me too. He's Prongslet. He's family like you, Lily, Moony, and Wormtail; he's mine to protect. Whatever our faults, Blacks protect family, my insane mother aside."

"Tell him, James," said Lily, "You know he will pout and pester you until you tell him."

James nodded, "You see, Sirius. No, Sirius, don't joke. This is Marauder business, but it concerns something that Lily found in the library before Harrison was born."

"That was months ago, I knew I shouldn't have left you alone in there when you were nine months pregnant," said Sirius flatly.

"Sirius," warned James, "would you be one of Harrison's godfathers?"

Sirius paled, looked at Lily in terror, then looked at James. "Prongs, are you serious?"

"Absolutely not. You're Sirius, Padfoot, but I **am** certain that I want you to be one of our son's godfathers."

"When?" gulped Sirius.

"That's what I found in the library," said Lily. "I want to do the old ceremony that calls on the protection of magic as well as that of law."

Sirius grabbed at the edge of the doorway and swayed. Before James could grab him, Sirius asked, "You're planning to call on Hekate aren't you, Lily? She isn't one to mess around with."

"I know, Sirius. I planned to call on Hekate and Nantosuelta."

"Interesting combination, Lily. You are aware that they are from two different traditions?"

"Of course." Lily grinned impishly, "Hekate is the Greek goddess of magic, the night, and the moon; Nantosuelta is the Gallic goddess of nature, fertility, and fire; both James and you were dedicated to Hekate; and I was presented to Nantosuelta by my mother. She also had me christened, of course."

"You'd better double-check the ritual with Remus," warned Sirius.

"Oh, I will. I want him to be a godfather too."

Sirius stared at Lily in disbelief, "When?"

"October 23. It's the full moon."

"Are you insane?" barked Sirius. "You **want** a werewolf in wolf form to be around your baby?"

"Settle down, Padfoot," said Remus, "I heard your voice from the front door." He looked at Lily, "What's going on? I know from the volume that it's your fault."

"I want you to be one of Harrison's godfathers. We're having the ceremony on October 23 and presenting Harrison to Hekate and Nantosuelta and asking her for protection."

Remus hummed, "October 23, full moon, werewolf form, Hekate, Greco-Roman, moon, magic, Nantosuelta, nature, fire. What ritual did you have in mind?"

"Dedication to Hekate, the one in the female Potter grimoire. I'd like my mother to come as well, after all she was the one who dedicated me to Nantosuelta."

"Athame, moonstone, keys, flame, torches, two no three. By the forest. Lord and Lady Potter and Lord Black are coming I presume. Godmother is...?" Remus trailed off.

"Alice Longbottom," said James firmly, "But not that night."

"Okay," drawled Remus, pulling out a notebook and pen from one of his pockets. "Invitations? Animagus forms? Lord Potter performs the ceremony?"

"None," said Lily. "Of course. Only for Nantosuelta, Lord Black performs the summoning of Hekate. Any other questions, Remus?"

Scribbling furiously, Remus shrugged, "Many, but they can wait until we are in the library and have the answers available." Remus put away his pen and notebook, and picked up the bag from Pickering & Chatto.

"I'm looking forward to having the Marauders together again," said James, "I've missed seeing Wormtail since he went into Transportation Department. We don't even have time to have lunch."

"Should we prank him to welcome him home?" asked Sirius.

"Fool," admonished Remus fondly, as he and Lily headed toward the library.

"Of course, how else can I stay so young and handsome?"

~O~

Monday, June 17, 1991

Sirius was yanked forcefully from the happy memories by the wave of fear and sadness that indicated the passage of a Dementor in the hallway. A few minutes later the rattling of the gruel dispenser indicated that it was time to eat, but Sirius stared at the wall and counted the marks. Five years was the sentence for murder, and he was responsible for two. He should have warned Prongs and Lily more strongly about summoning Hekate as witness. He had been training for taking over the Black family since he was seven, surely he should have been able to stop their deaths. Just a few more months, then he would either escape or die, but he would be out of here. And if he escaped he would see his puppy again.

Sirius dug his spoon into the gruel and swallowed the unappetizing mass. He scarcely noticed the texture and taste that resembled nothing so much as cereal that had been drowned in milk and then left under the bed for at least a week. His first few months were marked by dreams of the meals he remembered with his grandfather or with the Potters, but he never had dreams of food anymore, just dreams of the Marauders and Lily and occasionally about his puppy, Harrison. He had to keep as much strength as he could, his puppy deserved to have a healthy and sane godfather, but would have to do with a penitent one. He was a horrible godfather, but at least his puppy was being watched over by Remus.


	9. Chapter 9: Dreams of Death and Death

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

Rituals and Consequences

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Nine: Dreams of Death and Death of Dreams

June 18, 1991

Harrison woke up a half hour before Petunia would pound on his door to inform him that he had better get breakfast on the table. He put on his school uniform, Petunia had managed to get into the donation box at school at the beginning of the year and take three uniforms from the nursery year size range and gave them to Harrison. Over the uniform, Harry put on the third smallest of Dudley's cast-off shirts. Although it had short sleeves when it had been on Dudley, on Harrison the shoulders hung almost to his elbows and the ends of the sleeves almost touched his wrists. In one of Petunia's more amenable moods, she had allowed Harrison to borrow a needle and sew a piece of string inside the shirt at the shoulder seam and another at the neckline. With these, Harrison was able to at least shorten the shoulders enough so that he could use the kitchen equipment without injury. Harrison winced as he remembered the pains of the burns that had finally convinced his aunt to allow him to modify the clothes.

~O~

July 18,1984

"Get up," Petunia said as she unlocked the bolt on the cupboard. "Don't sleep the day away. It's time to fix breakfast."

Harrison felt sluggish and took more time than usual to get ready that morning. His sleep had been disturbed by dreams. A man with black hair whose face disappeared in a flash of green light. A woman with hair that looked like embers but didn't burn who smiled and then screamed into another flash of green. His cheeks were wet with the tears that had fallen in his sleep, and he had trouble finding his glasses this morning.

He was not out of the cupboard by the time that Petunia had retrieved the milk and eggs form the front porch and she gave a blow to the door as she passed. "Get up, boy! It's already six-thirty!"

"Yes, ma'am, I'm coming," replied Harrison as he finally found his glasses and perched them on his nose.

"You'd better be preparing breakfast in two minutes or I'll have Vernon give you a stripe to speed you up," warned Petunia.

Harrison shrugged on one of his work shirts and left the cupboard just in time to hear the bathroom door close as Vernon began his morning routine. Swiftly he entered the kitchen and started to prepare the sausage that Petunia had set out for the family's breakfast. One of the chairs from the table provided a ladder so that he was able to reach the top of the stove more readily, but his strength was not adequate to lift the heavy cast-iron skillet that Petunia preferred for breakfast use.

After placing the sausage links in the pan and starting the fire, Harrison reached for the spatula, only to jerk back in dismay as his sleeve dipped first in the hot grease in the skillet then into the flame and caught fire. He tried to put out the fire with his other hand, but the position was such that he couldn't reach it. He tried to get his sleeve free from the burner, but it had been caught on the prongs of the grate. "Aunt Petunia!" he yelled, "I need some help!"

"Don't wake Duddykins, he needs his sleep. I'll come in a minute."

A minute later, when she arrived, the sausages were aflame and Harrison's right sleeve was on fire to his shoulder, he was still attempting to escape from the grate and finally was able to free himself from the stove. His efforts were punished immediately as his attempts to dislodge his sleeve from the grate resulted in the grate coming loose from the stove and drenching him with burning oil as well as the sleeve.

Petunia threw the wool rug on the floor over him and smothered the flame, but the damage had been done. Harrison's entire left side was covered in blisters from his shoulder to his knees. His right hand was also blistered from where he had attempted to put out the flames. "You idiot boy!" Petunia yelled, "Do you know how much those sausages cost? You are to get into your cupboard and don't come out until I tell you."

Harrison fled to the cupboard, his burns undressed.

~O~

July 19, 1984

Harrison lay in the cupboard, unable to move. The water in the bottles near his pillow teased him with the thought of quenching his thirst, but his left side was to painful to allow it to touch anything but air, and his right arm was trapped. Besides, his right hand was burned almost as bad as his left side. He would just have to wait until his left side healed enough for him to move before he could get any water, but he could almost taste the coolness of the water flowing down his throat, it would feel so good. Harrison's thoughts concentrated on the taste, the feel, the smell, the sensation of water caressing his dry mouth and throat. He could imagine the water so clearly that it was almost as though there were water in his mouth, and he finally fell asleep, dreaming of water. As he slept, a small trickle of water came from his mouth and wet the pillow, despite his continuous unconscious swallowing.

~O~

July 20, 1984

Harrison felt fairly normal until he tried to move his left arm; the agony of the burned skin pulling as the muscles flexed was enough for him to immediately stop. He shifted just enough to release his right arm from beneath himself and reached for one of his bottles of water. The top removed, he drank thirstily, but idly wondered why it did not taste as good as he thought it should. After a cup of water, he stopped. He was still thirsty of course, but he knew that too much at once would cause more problems. After closing his eyes and picturing the book that he had been able to glance through in the library the last week of school, Harrison turned the first page of his remembered book and began to read.

At the end of the book, he took another drink and slipped into a doze. The pain from the burns was a reminder of what happened when he dreamed at night rather than slept soundly. He asked, quite solemnly, never to dream again. Or at least, for his dreams not to be remembered on waking to cause such pain again.


	10. Chapter 10: Marian, Madam Librarian

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

Rituals and Consequences

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Ten: Marian, Madam Librarian

Tuesday, June 18, 1991

Harrison still remembered the pain of the two weeks being stuck in the cupboard and waiting for his burns to heal. It might have been the burns themselves that had convinced Petunia to allow it, but Harrison had a feeling that it had more to do with her being required to work for those two weeks instead of having Harrison available to prepare meals, do the laundry and dishes, and all of the garden work. Her precious roses almost died in those two weeks, and that they had been dying was all Harrison's fault, just like everything else that went wrong. It was not until Harrison took over the care of the garden again that they started to grow again, and they didn't bloom again until September.

Harrison waited for the cupboard door to be unlocked. His morning routine was now just that. Wake up before Petunia called, be dressed before she unlocked the cupboard, inquire as to what the family wanted for breakfast, prepare breakfast, set the table, clean the cooking utensils while the family ate, and clean up the kitchen after they were done.

After breakfast, the front garden and Petunia's prize roses always needed care, and supper always had to be made, but other chores depended upon the season. After evening chores were completed, Harrison accepted his stripes for tasks undone and retired to his cupboard to be locked in for the night.

This morning Petunia was almost gentle as she unlocked the door and told him, "Get up."

Harrison immediately left the cupboard and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. After the meal preparation was completed, he was given permission to start out to school early. He left as soon as he had finished washing the utensils he had used. As he passed his cupboard he stripped off the oversized shirt and hung it on the inside doorknob. Ten seconds later and he was gone out the front door. A brisk five minute walk brought him to the thin line of trees that marked the boundary of the secondary school. He stripped a few berry vines as he walked and ate them for breakfast. They would have to hold him until lunch.

Harrison liked school days. After the kitchen was clean he was allowed to leave to walk to school, about a mile away. Dudley, of course, rode with Vernon, and was dropped off at the school gates. If Harrison was quick enough, he would be able to sneak into the school library and read a book before the bell rang for the first class of the day. Despite his best efforts, Harrison had been unable to convince his teachers that he was eager to learn. Petunia's lies were too convincing, and the other children were too terrified of Dudley to report his actions. So the teachers accused Harrison of laziness for failing to produce his homework or of copying Dudley's if he succeeded in bringing it to class. Harrison had tried to convince the teachers that he was a good student, but all they saw was a lack of homework.

Harrison reached the school almost an hour early and immediately walked around the building to the employee area to see if the school librarian, Miss Marian as he called her, had arrived. Her car was there, so he tapped on the window of the library and waited by the door. A minute later, Miss Marian came to the door and let him in. Miss Marian was wonderful! She brought him new books to read and was willing to answer questions. Harrison knew that the "No questions!" was suspended when he was alone with Miss Marian and he had taken full advantage of her unusual perspective. He had first been in the library during his nursery year, the second most important day of his life to that point. The first, of course, was the day he got glasses and was able to see the world, despite the blustering and punishment bestowed by Vernon.

Miss Marian hadn't seen him look at the dictionary for all of the words that he was having trouble understanding, but she seemed nice enough, he was disposed to like her because she looked so unlike Petunia and Vernon. Miss Marian had hair that was neither red nor yellow, but a combination that looked warm and comforting. She was shorter than either of the Dursleys, and seemed a compromise between Petunia's skeletal thinness and Vernon's porcine obesity. Miss Marian, in Harrison's opinion, was beautiful and reminded him of the warm-faced woman in his dreams.

~O~

While Harrison worked his way through the stack of books she had borrowed from the university library, Miss Marian pondered the behavior of this unusual boy and his teachers. She had been working as the school librarian for two years when she first met Harrison. She had not been terribly impressed by the behavior of the teachers she had met, the weekly meetings in the staff room seemed more like vicious gossip sessions than discussions of ways to deal with problem children.

~O~

Friday, October 26, 1983

The weekly staff meeting at St. Grogory's Primary School was in full swing. A week of no children because of the Half Term holiday, and the stress of the mid-term exams and evaluations caused the discussion to be more vicious than usual.

"I had such hopes for the boy," moaned Mrs. Smith, the Nursery teacher. "He seemed such a bright boy at the beginning of the term, and the work for his first few weeks was excellent. Then he was gone for two days, sick his aunt said, and when he came back he was the most stupid child I had ever seen. His cousin, on the other hand, started out slow and has improved steadily through the term. Harrison Potter is a troublemaker, make no mistake about that. All you have to do is look at the reactions of the other children. The know a troublemaker when they see one."

"Anything I can do to help?" asked the headmistress.

"I don't know, at first I thought that the aunt and uncle might be neglecting the child. The child needed glasses and had never gotten them. I sent three notes on the matter home with the boy; but, judging by his behavior later in the term, I'd be willing to bet that he didn't deliver the first two. He acted like his aunt and uncle didn't want to spend the money, but I'm sure there was another reason. He came back with them the next day after that third note, so I suppose it was the first note that was delivered. If so, the only reason he delivered it was because I told him that it contained a copy of one I was going to send to my brother-in-law in the police force."

"Oh dear," said the headmistress faintly. "Who are the parents?"

"He's an orphan. Vernon and Petunia Dursley are his guardians. Their son Dudley is also in my class. He's a slow learner, but he plods away until he understands the material. Harrison, I hate to say it, might be a bully."

"Why don't you go for a home visit over the holiday?" recommended the headmistress.

"I would, but I am taking my family to see my mother in London. The children have been anticipating going to the museum since we decided to go back in late August. Perhaps I'll go after term resumes."

The discussion rambled on, and Marian largely ignored it.

~O~

Wednesday, November 14, 1983

The first trip to the library for the Nursery year was always a fiasco with children throwing books they could not read and fighting over preferred picture books. Harrison caught Marian's interest because he was not acting in the normal fashion. He stood before pedestal on which the first volume of the Oxford English Dictionary rested and gently closed the book, opened the cover, then turned each page carefully, only spending about a half-second on each page. When Harrison reached the end of the book, he shuddered and glanced around to see if anyone was watching. Not noticing Marian's attention, he carefully removed the dictionary from the stand, replaced it in the shelf, and extracted the second volume.

Marian was distracted by a commotion in the picture books, a rotund boy was shrieking that he had seen the book first. The boy was not soothed until the Nursery teacher said that he could have the book first. The child sneered at the other children behind their teacher's back, and Marian wondered at his behavior. The Nursery teacher called, "Harrison Potter, get over here immediately!" Marian noticed that the boy at the dictionary placed another volume on the pedestal at the call, opened it, and turned away with a sigh. Five minutes of feverishly recording which child had which book and the Nursery class was gone. The boy, evidently Harrison Potter, did not check out a single book, despite his interest in the dictionary. Wondering why, Marian walked over to the dictionary. She realized that the book was open to the exact page which had been displayed before. Dismissing it as a coincidence, she turned to the picture book area to clean up the chaos left by the Nursery class.

~O~

Tuesday, January 8, 1984

Harrison came into the library on his own during play time and asked for information about dogs. Wondering if he might be getting a pet soon, Marian pointed him to the encyclopedia set for children. Returning to her task of shelving books, she was startled when he gingerly approached her and asked if there was anything more. She pointed out the more advanced encyclopedia set. As the play period ended, she asked if he had found what he sought. He told her no. She realized that play time was almost over and asked if he would like to check out a book on dog breeds to take home. He looked terrified, said hurriedly, "No, thank you for your consideration," and fled.

~O~

Friday, January 18, 1984

The Friday staff meeting was in full swing and the staff had already dissected the character and behavior of the children in Year 6 and 5 when Marian entered the staff room. She was not required to come, but she was becoming intrigued by Harrison Potter. The discussion continued around her with the analysis of the Year 4 and 3 children. Year 2 and the Reception Year were soon chewed over, and Marian could see the eager look as the teachers prepared to chew over the latest events in the Nursery Year. It wasn't because the teachers didn't care; Marian was sure that it had more to do with attempting to control twenty four-year-old children. It had been many years since Marian had been in Nursery Year, but she recalled that her class had only ten students, and her teacher had still had problems controlling them at times.

The Year 1 teacher started the discussion, "How was **he** after the Christmas break?"

"Well," said Mrs. Smith, "you know how I talked about the problems **his** cousin has been having?"

"Yes," urged another teacher.

"Well," said Mrs. Smith archly, "I made a home visit over the holidays."

"And?" came several voices.

"And Harrison had fifteen presents under the tree as compared to Dudley's ten."

Several teachers gasped, "Really?"

"Mrs. Dursley told me that they were trying to make it up to the boy for not having any parents, but it doesn't seem to be working. Not only did he have more presents than his cousin, his aunt told me that the reason he is such a problem is because of bad blood."

"Bad blood? Surely you can't mean?"

"Well, his parents were married, but it seems that his father never had a job. His mother must have supported the family. And you've seen that scar on his forehead? It was caused in the car crash that killed his parents. No one else suffered for their stupidity and drunk driving."

"Poor Dursleys, how they must suffer."

"Even worse," whispered Mrs. Smith. "It seems the boy's godfather is in prison. For murder."

Shrieks of vicarious terror filled the staff room, until Marian asked, "How are his parents supporting the child?"

"I didn't ask. They are probably supporting him out of the goodness of their hearts. Pure Christian charity. Such a lovely couple, the Dursleys. Salt of the earth."

"They should take a belt to that boy. Spare the rod and spoil the child; that's what I always heard. And for a case like this it is probably the only way."

Marian wondered if these teachers were speaking of the same child she had met. The Harrison she had seen was shy but polite. Well, perhaps she would have a chance to observe him more later.


	11. Chapter 11: Taming the Wild Reader

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

Rituals and Consequences

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Eleven: Taming the Wild Reader

Tuesday, June 18, 1991

"Miss Marian?"

"Yes, Harrison? Are you done with the books?"

"Yes, ma'am, but I don't understand it all. Is there additional information about the matter? I don't understand how the Children Act 1989 would affect a custody case of a child currently living with relatives."

Marian looked at the small child and wondered. Here was a child with a brilliant mind who had trained his memory to record reading material at a glance and retrieve it for later consumption, yet his teachers insisted that he was an idiot and a bully. She almost snorted, A bully? The child was a whole three inches over three feet tall, which put him far below the normal height for his age, she was certain that he was frequently mistaken for a five-year-old. His reluctance to speak to adults had been fostered carefully over the years, and she wondered if all of his teachers were blind. This was no troublemaker or bully; this was a child who asked only for the smallest of kind gestures to smile. She had watched him go from caution to diffidence to withdrawal. She wondered if she was the only adult that he was willing to open up to. She had only seen him four times during his Nursery year, but was always careful not to startle him. If not for that small foundation of trust, her best efforts in his Reception year would have been useless. As it was, they had almost been insufficient.

~O~

Tuesday, September 3, 1984

The Reception Year was gathered at the front door of the school to be taken to their various classes. The eighty children were divided up into five classes and herded away by their new teachers. Harrison Potter looked up at his new teacher hopefully, maybe she would be nice. He still had twinges occasionally from the burns he had acquired over the summer and his right wrist was still sore from Vernon twisting it just this morning as a reminder that he must not attempt to take attention away from their precious Dudley.

Harrison's hopes were dashed the instant his teacher called attendance. He and Dudley had not only been placed in the same class, but Dudley was seated next to him, "So he can keep an eye on you, we try to put a responsible child with a troublemaker."

Harrison was caught between disbelieving laughter and outright horror. Dudley would indeed keep an eye on him, or a fist or elbow or foot or knee. Dudley had grown two inches over the summer holidays and now stood a full eleven inches taller than Harrison. Harrison remained at the same height he had attained at the age of three, two feet and ten inches of wiry muscle. Dudley had also increased in girth of course, and now weighed a whopping eighty pounds as opposed Harrison's wiry forty pounds.

~O~

Friday, September 6, 1984

The Reception year teacher heaved a sigh of relief as she entered the staff room. "Mrs. Smith, how did you manage to deal with that boy?"

"Harrison?"

"Yes. He is unwilling to do any of the work set for him. On Tuesday, I asked him to practice his penmanship, but he just looked at me. At the end of the day, he had still not even picked up the pencil. I'm at my wit's end. The next day, he at least picked up the pencil, but I haven't seen such horrible writing in ages. Look at it!" she brandished an exercise sheet. "It's like he's never written before in his life!"

Mrs. Smith nodded her head in sympathy, "It happened several times last year too. Suddenly he would stop doing his school work for about a week, then he would turn in papers that looked almost like that one, although never quite so bad."

"What did you do?"

"I couldn't very well suspend him because Dudley would cry so pitifully if Harrison was out of his sight for more than a few minutes. Even changing seats didn't help because of Dudley. I would say that your best option is to gradually wean Dudley away from him."

Marian left the staff room quietly and wondered about the motives of Harrison Potter and Dudley Dursley.

~O~

Friday, October 25, 1984

The staff room was full of teachers discussing their students at the end of the half term. This year every teacher in infant school had felt the impact of the problem child in the Reception year. The number of bruises that appeared on the children in Nursery and Reception years had tripled. Harrison Potter had been ostracized by his classmates, but the behavior still continued. He was the cause of three-fourths of the "accidents" on the playground, and his cousin, Dudley, was his favorite target. Dudley was found crying at least twice per week, but he refused to be separated from his cousin. The teachers had attempted to separate them, but Dudley had refused to stop wailing until Harrison was returned to the seat next to his. Harrison was also a suspect in the rash of petty thievery that had struck the infant school, but no direct accusations could be made. The other children seemed terrified of Harrison and never went near him.

"Call a bully, a bully," said Mrs. Smith, Harrison's Nursery teacher. "He's gotten worse from last year."

"And it's affecting Dudley. The poor boy is terrified of being separated from his cousin, but he isn't learning a thing while being next to him."

"Is Harrison's behavior in class better when he is next to Dudley?"

"He doesn't seem to be causing that many problems in class except for occasional tipping over his chair. The other children give the excuse that he fell, but I can tell that he is just trying to get attention."

"Well," said the headmistress, "can we expel him?"

"If you do, you had better be ready to expel Dudley as well. If he is unable to see Harrison, he becomes terrified and cries miserably."

"Is there anything we can do?"

"I'm trying to wean Dudley away from the boy by separating them during play time, but the longest Dudley is willing to be away from his cousin is about twenty minutes. That took most of the past two months, but, hopefully by the Christmas holiday I'll be able to separate them for the entire play period."

Marian quietly sat and sipped her tea as the gossip continued. Because of her position she saw behavior from a different perspective. The students who came early were her morning entertainment, and she had noticed that Harrison arrived far earlier than his cousin. He would walk furtively into the play area of the school, checking to see that no other students were around. Then he would extract a book from a small stash and sit on the ledge of the climbing tower and read. Sometimes he would pull a notebook from his pack and write something in it. If other children arrived before Dudley, they were scrupulously ignored, and in turn the other children ignored Harrison. However, the moment that Dudley arrived, the behavior pattern changed. All of the children except Harrison immediately went to the opposite side of the play area and Dudley was left with his cousin. This was the scene that most of the teachers saw as they arrived. Dudley attached to Harrison as though by a tether, and the other children avoiding both of them.

~O~

Monday, November 4, 1984

Marian decided to put her plan into effect this morning. It might already be too late to rescue Harrison Potter, but she was going to try. She had arrived at the school a little before six this morning, determined to get to Harrison's stash of books, insert her contribution, and be in the building before he arrived.

Her contribution was a book on dogs that she had seen in a rummage sale. It had pictures of many different breeds, but had only cost a few pence. Marian had written on the front fly leaf, "If you would like more books, come tap on the library window. It is the second to the left from the main door," and signed it, "the Librarian."

Then she proceeded with her morning routine of entering the school, preparing a pot of tea that would stay on the small hotplate in the staffroom. Her morning cup of tea in hand, Marian headed to the library. The lights turned on so that she could see in her work area, she proceeded to attempt a repair on one of the more popular picture books that one of the Nursery students had torn. After a few minutes she looked up see Harrison staring in the window at her. She smiled at him and returned to her work.

~O~

Tuesday, November 5, 1984

Marian continued her attack by placing another book on dogs in Harrison's stash of books with the same inscription, but had added a small package that contained a few biscuits. She had laughed to herself that she was attempting to tame a wild animal with bribes of food and books, but what wild animal would read?

Her morning tea in hand, Marian again entered the library, but this time Harrison was staring in the window at her before she had a chance to get to her work area. She smiled at him, nodded politely to acknowledge his presence and turned to the task of checking to see which students would need to have notes sent home to remind them to return library books.

When she glanced up again, Harrison was gone.

~O~

Friday, November 8, 1984

Marian's taming process was progressing nicely. She had decided to take her attack more seriously on Tuesday evening. she had rearranged the books in the window so that there was an illustrated book of mythology prominently displayed. When she came in Wednesday morning, she left a small packet of cheese and an apple with Harrison's books, got her tea, and waited until Harrison had made his morning appearance at the window. After he had disappeared, she opened the front cover of the book and returned to her daily tasks. That evening she turned the page in the mythology book.

Thursday morning she repeated the process, waiting until Harrison had come to the window to turn the page. He appeared at the window again that morning, and after he had left, she turned the page. This process was repeated three times that morning before the arrival of Dudley and the other teachers.

This morning, she had left a note with the morning snack. "You can read the book faster if you come to the library, The Librarian." Then proceeded with her morning routine. After the second page turn of the morning, she was greeted by a gentle tap at the window as she went to turn the page again. She smiled at Harrison, pointed in the direction of the main door, and hurried out of the library to let in her newly tamed reader.


	12. Chapter 12: Reader as Oliver Twist

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

A kind reviewer found an error so that we are posting the corrected chapter and a new chapter as a gift for Kyrianae Narii and the rest of our readers.

**Rituals and Consequences**

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Twelve: Reader as Oliver Twist

Tuesday, June 18, 1991

Marian sat with Harrison discussing some of the books he had read over the last week. Although Harrison was only ten, almost eleven, and Marian was only a primary school librarian; they had discussed such wide-ranging topics as current events in politics, comparative mythology, Latin and Greek languages and the idiosyncrasies of each, and the current philosophical basis of modern physics. It would be startling perhaps that a primary school librarian would have such material available, but Marian worked in the school library because of the many hours available for self-study. She truly was not interested in all of the subjects that she and Harrison discussed, the routine of changing topics had started in his Reception year and never ceased. Marian still remembered Harrison's first requested topic of research, and had nightmares about the second and third.

~O~

Monday, November 12, 1984

"Harrison, are you interested in anything in particular?" asked Marian early Monday morning.

"Dogs," he murmured, head down but glancing upward warily.

"Have you already looked at all of the books on dogs I left?"

"Yes, ma'am. They weren't there." Greatly daring, Harrison looked at Marian and added, "I'm looking for two particular dogs. I've seen them in my dreams. I looked through all of the books on dogs in the library last year."

"Can you describe them?"

"One is black and very shaggy, I think that he's very big, but I'm not certain. The other is a cross between brown and gray, not as shaggy as the other but also big. I've also read the books on dreams, but couldn't find them there either."

"Well, I have a book of dog breeds at home that I can bring in tomorrow. What would you like to read today?"

Harrison's gaze lifted cautiously to hers, "Something I haven't already read."

"Why don't you start in the picture books? It was quite crowded with your entire class here last year. Of course, you can read anything you like, ask me if you have any questions or need anything."

"Yes, ma'am." Harrison started toward the picture books.

Marian had noticed that Harrison never came within an arm's length of her. She watched as he walked away, his shoulders stiff as though expecting a blow. She was more certain than ever that this was a child who was the bullied rather than the bully. Marian thought of Harrison as a wild creature that had been tamed but was sure he did not trust her enough to ask questions. She returned to her work for the morning, writing letters to the various parents of children who had still not returned borrowed books.

After the first twenty letters had been written, Marian looked up and watched Harrison for a few moments. She was startled when, within a minute of her gaze resting on him, he met her gaze inquisitively. She smiled reassuringly, and he immediately dropped his gaze. However, she noticed that for the next few minutes that, whenever she glanced at him, he would meet her gaze for a split second before dropping his gaze again.

Marian's alarm went off at five minutes before seven, startling Marian even though she had known it was coming. She had set the alarm to remind herself to let Harrison back out into the schoolyard before any of the other students or teachers arrived. Harrison's presence in the library was to be their secret, that was the tacit agreement they had made last Friday. She was about to ask if he was ready to leave when Harrison appeared in front of her desk holding two books.

His demeanor screamed "don't hurt me!" as he asked, "Does the library have additional information on these?"

Marian looked at the two books, a simplified book of fairy tales and a collection of myths from several cultures. "Which did you want to study first?"

"First?"

"Generally I can bring in about six books each day. Which of those would you most like to examine further?" Seeing his look of dismay, she added, "We can cover the first one next week, and the other the following week. That way you get to find out about both. Agreed?"

Harrison nodded, "Either." His eyes sparkled with the thought of exploring both, and he slipped out of the door almost before Marian realized he was gone."

~O~

Tuesday, November 13, 1984

Marian brought in her most complete book on dog breeds that contained pictures. She had gone to the Little Whinging library for a listing of dog breeds recognized by the The Kennel Club (she had never realized there were so **many** breeds) and an instruction manual for translating the descriptions of those breeds into more normal terms (what the heck did brindle and merle have to do with color anyway). A book of fairy tales from her childhood and a book of Greek myths completed her collection for Harrison this morning. She also had a book on Welsh legends that she had been rereading.

Harrison arrived at half past six and tapped on the window of the library. Letting him in the front door, Marian reminded him that he could ask questions if he encountered anything he did not understand or even if he just wanted more information. Presenting him with the books on dogs she had brought, she watched his eyes light with excitement. Five minutes later she met his disappointed gaze that silently asked "More?" as he said, "They aren't here."

"Are there any breeds that are close?"

"The Pyrenean Mountain Dog looks a lot like the black dog, but its fur is not shaggy enough, besides my dog has black fur. The closest the book has to the other dog is a Alaskan Malamute, but I think it is larger and not as starkly different between back and belly. It is more gray and I think larger."

"Okay, can you draw a picture of your dogs?"

Harrison looked at Marian in disbelief. "I can't. Everything turns out wrong. Besides..." he trailed off.

"Besides," Marian encouraged.

"Dudley steals any art supplies that I get, he likes to spread glue on all of the chairs in the classroom. I get blamed for it, of course, since it is my glue after all. Last week he used my markers to draw on the walls in the boys' lavatory. I spent an hour after school cleaning it off the walls. Fortunately they let me use rubbing alcohol, it makes the removal much faster."

Marian wasn't sure what to make of a four-year-old who knew how to remove marker from walls, but offered, "I could keep art supplies for you here in the library. You could use them in the mornings."

"Thank you, ma'am, but I would rather read. If you could get responsibility for supervising me during playtime, I could practice art then."

"Call me Marian, Harrison."

"Yes, ma'am, Miss Marian," as the alarm sounded. He scurried off before she could correct him.

~O~

Wednesday, November 14, 1984

Marian brought another picture book this morning; it had photographs of wolves as well as other members of the canine family. Her collection of fairy tales was augmented by a trip to the Little Whinging library.

Harrison showed up at his usual time. When Harrison had read the books she had brought, he looked up at her beseechingly and asked, "Are there any more?"

~O~

Friday, November 23, 1984

Harrison had devoured every book of children's fairy tales and folk tales that Marian had been able to obtain in the last week, but she was faced with a problem. On Thursday she had brought out the more adult versions. Adult versions of the fairy tales, books of folk tales, and fables were devoured. "More, please?" was the unspoken request at the end of each session.

On her mettle as a librarian, Marian went further afield. She needed more resources than Little Whinging provided. She had already contacted the librarian at the Secondary school, the city librarian, and the library in Guildford, the county town. She had written some of her friends looking for a broader range of reading material, but was still waiting for replies. Hopefully one of the other Orangutans could give her some help.


	13. Chapter 13: Bookworm on a Diet

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

Rituals and Consequences

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Thirteen: Bookworm on a Diet

Tuesday, June 18, 1991

Marian's musing was interrupted by the sound of Harrison closing the last of his books and tucking his notebooks away in the space behind her desk that had been designated as his. Within seconds of the last of the clearing away of the evidence of their morning session, her alarm sounded and he was away.

Marian looked out the window to see the other children begin to arrive as Harrison slipped out of the main doors. As usual he perched near the top of the climbing tower, and was avoided scrupulously by the other children. Marian noticed that he sat in what she called his "reading pose." Every morning after their reading session he sat and collated the information he had received. She had asked him how he organized the information but couldn't understand his reply of notebooks, especially as she had never seen him carry a notebook.

~O~

Friday, December 28, 1984

"The Society of Orangutans is now called to order," said George, raising his voice to be heard over the babble of friends seeing each other for the first time in a year. "We celebrate the end of another year and the coming of a new. Is there any other business to put on the table besides Marian's issue?"

"I'm getting married in a week," said an attractive young woman.

"Congratulations," said George, "any other business?" After a few moments of silence, he continued, "Take the floor, Marian."

Marian sat more erect in her chair, her strawberry blonde hair floating free. "I have a **reader**," the emphasis was heavy, "who reads everything I can get my hands on. Some of you have been kind enough to contribute materials, but I need additional assistance. This is no ordinary reader, he went through my entire collection of fairy and folk tales in less than a week."

Gasps came from several people who knew just how extensive her collection was. "Adult ones too?" asked one of the group.

"Absolutely, I couldn't deny his pleading looks. I'm not exactly sure how much of the subtext he caught, but I know that he had no trouble with the vocabulary at least."

"Does he retain the information at that speed?"

"He seems to do so. I asked him about one of the folk tales and he provided me with the tale and as many variants as I had in my collection. That's fifteen different variants, people. You remember my dissertation of the Snow White story? That was the tale."

"What do you mean he provided you with the tale?"

"Not word for word out of the book, but condensed. I asked for clarification on one point, he closed his eyes briefly and recited the passage verbatim. He remembered the source for each variant as well."

"Does he have any other areas of interest?"

"I asked what he was interested in when I started. He said dogs, folk tales, and fairy tales. After I gave him all I could on those, he asked about mythology. I gave him everything available. This **reader** has gone through the entire collection in the school, including the Oxford English Dictionary that I keep more for appearances than usage by the students. Oh yes, he read that last year. It's probably why he has so few issues with vocabulary."

The group erupted with shouts of disbelief, drowning out each others comments.

Marian raised the folder, "Here is the list of books that I know he has read. He has probably read more than this, but this is what I have watched him read."

George took the folder and opened it. His eyes widened as he read the first page, he passed that page to his right, then the next to his left. "Are these in order?" he asked.

"More or less; the first book I saw him read was the dictionary, but I really had no idea at the time that he was reading it. I thought he was looking through it for pictures."

One of the Orangutans from the opposite end of the table raised a question. "Who is this **reader** of yours?"

Marian shrugged, "I'll call him Harrison; it's suitable for a junior member of the Society. You know that I teach at St. Grogory's Primary School? It's county supported." Nods of acknowledgment from several members greeted her question. "I saw him reading books far more advanced than his age would suggest, yet his teachers insist that he is stupid and lazy."

"And you say?"

"They are confusing this boy with another. They look nothing alike, but the perception was set last year. Now they don't want to see any aberrations from their perceptions. The only reason I caught this reader was because saw what he was reading last year. This year I lured him into the library. I bribed him with books."

Laughter erupted at the admission.

"I need help," Marian continued. "The child needs to be challenged and my specialization is too narrow for him. He has already branched out into religious texts."

"Excuse me, religious texts?" asked George.

"Well, there is a copy of the Bible in the school library, he went through that in two hours. I found an old copy of the Koran, and someone donated a copy of some of the Vedas  
to the Guildford Library. I'm looking into getting some of the other religious texts, but I really need help."

The Orangutans erupted, but George brought them back to order. "How old is your **reader**?" he asked.

"He's four. Could some of you either come to the school on some afternoon or exchange correspondence with him?"

Calls of acceptance came from several directions. George called for order again, "I need a show of hands, who is able to visit the school?" About three hands raised. "Correspondents?" Another ten raised their hands. George turned to Marian, "Is this enough?"

Marian stood, "Thank you all. I would ask those who visit to be cautious. The school is unaware of the reader and would not approve of any action that reassures him. I will be the go-between for correspondence. Please let me know your areas of specialization and books that I will need to provide for Harrison."

The Society of Orangutans, finished with the business of the meeting, started the party. Food was ordered and the issue of Marian's reader was set aside for the moment in deference to the pleasures of good food and good company.

~O~

Tuesday, June 18, 1991

Marian watched through the window as the children made their usual disorderly way through the main doors and down the hallways to their various classrooms. This was Harrison's final year at St. Grogory's Primary School, next year he would be advancing to Stonewall Secondary School. Marian had only one more year at St. Grogory's before she, too, would be moving to another position. It was not that she did not enjoy working with the children; that she enjoyed greatly, but the favoritism displayed by the headmistress had become too much. Marian's initial attempt to inform the headmistress of Harrison's potential had met with failure.

~O~

Friday, November 30, 1984

Marian came to the staff room early. She had an appointment with the headmistress to discuss Harrison. Marian had prepared a list of the topics that she and Harrison had covered and the list of books that he had already read. She looked up as the headmistress entered the staff room.

"Headmistress," she said politely, "I have a student that needs special attention in the library."

"Which student?"

"Harrison Potter, ma'am."

"He can't read? He destroys books? I wouldn't expect any better of that brat. Petunia is a saint to put up with his behavior. I've never encountered such ill-bred behavior in my life as that child displays."

"He has been extremely polite to me," replied Marian. "I was wondering if I could request time in the early afternoon once per week to go to the university and obtain books for him."

"Want to escape the brat, do you? If you want to escape him after an hour with him once every two weeks, just imagine how his teacher feels."

"No, I like the boy; I just am having trouble keeping up with his reading habits," responded Marian.

"If you can't handle him once every two weeks, that's your problem. I don't see why you should be rewarded for not having to deal with him. I'm thinking of having a rotating schedule of teachers to supervise the devil child so that his poor cousin has time away from him."

"I could supervise Harrison in the afternoons, but I will need to take a mid-day break to go to the university. It would be during the times I do not have a class scheduled to be in the library."

"Do you really think you could handle the child?" asked the headmistress incredulously. "Well, on your head be it. You have responsibility for the child for an hour after school every day from now until the end of the term. If you still want to continue after that, you may."

"Did you want to see my plans for him?"

"As long as you don't leave visible marks, I don't care what you do. Just keep that child away from the other teachers."

"Yes, headmistress," said Marian, dumbstruck that the headmistress had not actually listened to her. It was as if the headmistress was hearing something other than what she said. _I did say that I was getting additional books for the child, didn't I? How did she get from books to plans that would leave visible marks?_

Marian closed the folder containing the list of books that Harrison had already devoured without the headmistress even looking at it.

~O~

Tuesday, June 18, 1991

None of Marian's attempts to talk to the other teachers had fared better. By the end of the second term of Harrison's Induction year, Marian was tasked with watching Harrison during the play period and for an hour after school. Marian had actually seen the note sent home to Petunia and Vernon Dursley halfway through the second term of his Induction year. The note had said:

"Dear Mr and Mrs Dursley, Your son Dudley is doing well in my class, but I worry about the effects that your nephew seems to be having on him. When Dudley is around Harrison, he seems unable to learn. The headmistress and other teachers agree that Harrison needs additional training to bring his grades up to an acceptable level. Please, allow Harrison to be retained after school for an extra hour each day. Thank you, Mrs Jones."

Marian had been caught between outrage and disbelieving laughter. Harrison's teachers were so convinced that he was at fault for all of the things that Dudley did that the evidence of their own eyes was insufficient to persuade them otherwise.


	14. Chapter 14: Behind the Tail

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

Rituals and Consequences

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Fourteen: Behind the Tail

Wednesday, June 19, 1991

The story about the group who had ignored the sign at the hippopotamus pool was the talk of the zoo staff for the entire week. The keeper in charge of the exhibit started, "It's the first time I ever had anyone get splattered like that! Sure, a couple got a spot on their shoe or walked through a puddle, but there is a shoe washing station next to the enclosure for just that reason. Really, entering the splatter zone is not a joke. That family was coated with hippopotamus dung from head to toe. It was even in their hair. I'm just glad that we were able to rinse their clothes before they left."

Chuckles arose from the other staff members. It wasn't the first time that they had experienced such things in the zoo, but this was more severe than they had ever heard of. "Why did they ignore the sign?"

The hippopotamus keeper grimaced, "We were feeding the hippopotamus and the bigger boy insisted that he get to watch from as close to the fence as he could get. I tried to warn them, but they stayed in the splatter zone. Personally, I would have told them that they had to pay for their own stupidity."

"The management paid for a replacement set of clothes, but I nearly broke a rib trying not to laugh," said the gift shop attendant.

"What do you mean?" asked the hippopotamus keeper.

"You saw them," replied the gift shop attendant, "The boy (obnoxious brat!) took the largest adult size of shorts we had. The child looked like a whale, or perhaps a tapir if you put it on two legs. The woman kept shrieking about her poor Duddykins."

"I know the brat deserved to have trouble, but it was not that funny."

"The father," chuckled the gift shop attendant. "He was four hundred pounds if he was an ounce. He was too big for any of the shorts that we had on hand, that left the sarongs. It wouldn't have been so bad if he was confident enough to carry it off, but he was as big a brat as the child. I always thought a sarong would cover almost anyone, but that man took two. The funny part was that the only two sarongs that matched were lime green with tropical flowers. They were the loudest print I've ever seen. We've had them in the shop for over six months, but no one would take them."

"The whale was muttering about it all being the boy's fault, and just wait until he got home," contributed the gate attendant. "I thought at first he was referring to the young whale, but he kept soothing him by saying that it was all the freak's fault and that the boy would pay. They were also threatening to sue as they left, said that the management had better refund the money for the young whale's eleventh birthday party."

"Only eleven, can you believe it?" asked the gift shop attendant. "Maybe we should send them a picture of the back end of a hippo as a reminder to behave themselves."

"Wouldn't work," stated the gate attendant. "The young whale was shrieking that he wanted to go home and never come back to the zoo. Even if the ice cream mountain was on the small side."

"Small side? The ice cream mountain? Wait, did you say eleven?" asked the waiter from the restaurant who had just come into the room. "And built like a baby whale?"

"That's an insult to whales, but the description fits. Why do you ask?" said the attendant.

"I served the family at luncheon. The father ordered two cheeseburgers, two vegetarian burgers, and a child's cheeseburger. I figured that the two whales were reducing, but not so. The man eats his cheeseburger and half his wife's vegetarian burger, and the kid eats his cheeseburger and half the littlest kid's. Not to mention the large ice cream mountain and half of his friends. He even took one of the profiteroles from the littlest one, but complained that it was all air."

"Wait," said the hippopotamus keeper, "three kids? I only saw two. And a more obnoxious pair would be hard to imagine."

"Subtract the wife and it matches the group I had in the Reptile house," contributed William, the reptile keeper. "The young blimp and the other were pounding on the glass of Rashmi, the Sri Lankan python. The youngest was on the floor, I think I saw a broken pair of glasses, but he was polite. I kicked them all out, but it was just the three that I really wanted to get rid of. The littlest boy, the polite one, asked me if the snakes were okay. I sent him an invitation to come see me the next time he comes to the zoo."

"Think he'll take you up on it?" asked

"If they'll let him come," said William. "If I can get him interested, he may be a naturalist someday. But that's far in the future, I would say the kid was only about five. Far too young to be near that obnoxious prat."

"Five?" asked the waiter. "He was a very well-spoken and well-behaved child then. I don't think that he was related to the rest of the crew, but he was sweet."

"Why do you think he wasn't related?" asked the hippopotamus keeper.

"He looked nothing like the rest of them. They were all blonde, but the young one had black hair. Maybe he was a cousin or the like, but I never saw such behavior, especially from the two whales."

~O~

Remus heard about the misadventures of the family during his meal break, but paid little attention. The actions of the three children were interesting, as all cubs were, but they were not his cub. Remus couldn't figure out why he wanted to prank the family. He hadn't even considered pulling a prank since the day that the Potters had been killed, but now something was urging him to take action, and do it immediately. Maybe later, after he had retrieved his cub.

Remus sighed, glanced at the calendar, and sighed again. Another six weeks until his cub turned eleven, just another six weeks. Never had time dragged so slowly, especially now that he was near enough to almost be able to smell the presence of his cub.


	15. Chapter 15: To Die, To Sleep- Perchance

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

**Rituals and Consequences**

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Fifteen: To Die, To Sleep– Perchance to Dream

Thursday, June 20, 1991

Sirius did not know what time it was. He had started dozing more and more, waiting for the last few months to pass before his penance was complete and he could rejoin his puppy. He thought it was after nightfall, but wasn't certain. His thoughts slipped away as he once again tumbled into an uneasy rest.

~O~

A dog walked down a path in the forest. The dog walked, half in light and half in darkness, but always in the center of the path. The dog looked half-starved. Its coat was long and shaggy, matted and unkempt. Despite its rough appearance, a friendly light gleamed in its eyes and its open mouth seemed to smile.

A stag stepped onto the path from brightly lit woods, bringing the light with him. His antlers were still covered with the softness of growing velvet. His silent approach was welcomed by a bark and a soft waving of a plumed tail. The stag and the dog touched noses and the pair continued onward along the path.

A bend in the path obscured the view ahead when a dark gray form scurried from one side of the path to the other, never daring to stay on the path. As the dog and stag approached, the form resolved itself into a rat, about two feet tall at the shoulder and four feet from tip of nose to base of tail with a three-foot long scaled tail. The furtive movements of the rat eased as the dog and stag approached. The rat joined the pair in the middle of the road, tail held aloft from the dirt.

A snarl sounded from the dark forest, deep and menacing. From the forest stalked a wolf, large and lean. As the wolf approached the three already on the path, the dog sprang at it but turned aside to gently buffet the wolf's shoulder with its own. The wolf growled. The stag lowered its head to touch noses with the wolf. The rat also greeted the wolf with a chattering cry.

As the quartet traveled the velvet covering the stag's antlers began to bleed and the antlers showed through. Soon the stag bore a proud rack of antlers, but no doe was there to see them. His loud, low-pitched bugle sounded across the forest on both sides of the path. Again and again the stag called, but no doe appeared.

The trio walked on and a bat fluttered out of the forest. Not long after the bat appeared, a doe strode out of the forest to stand beside the point where the bat hovered. The dog barked, but the bat would not leave the doe. The wolf howled, but the bat still would not leave. The rat chattered at the bat, but it responded with high pitch squeaks that caused the rat to fall back. Finally, the stag approached and tried to court the doe. The bat came between the stag and the doe, but scratched a shallow groove in the doe's back. With a snort, the doe shook the bat from her back and ran to the stag. The bat lingered on a branch, watching the doe.

As the group moved on, the bat would flutter near but never with the group, always staying near the doe. The others began to ignore the bat, and it fluttered closer. Suddenly a beam of light shone from the daylit forest, causing the bat to lose its bearings and flutter away from the group and into the dark forest.

Another bend in the road and the stag and doe were accompanied by a fawn, small and spotted. The wolf and the dog lay with the fawn as the adult deer browsed on the underbrush. The bat fluttered out of the darkened forest, nearer and nearer the doe and finally came to a rest near her again until startled by another flack of light.

From the forest of light, a brighter flash startled the deer. They faced that direction just long enough for a green light from the dark forest now behind them to strike, and they fell down. The fawn was left calling for its lost parents. The dog and the wolf did their best to comfort the fawn as the rat stood guard, but another flash from the bright forest stunned the wolf, the dog, and the rat and held them immobile while the fawn vanished.

The dog was bound in chains and thrown into the dark forest. Despite its snarling and snapping, the dog never struggled against the chains themselves.

The wolf sought the trail of the missing fawn but howled mournfully when the trail could not be found.

The rat fled and cowered near the edge of the road, scenting the air currents for a trace of the fawn.

A blur of motion and a young stag emerged from the bright forest, carrying shadows as he came.

The stag was much smaller than the first two deer and seemed tentative; his ears constantly swiveling to catch the sound of approaching danger. Curled around one of his antlers, though still merely nubs, was a serpent, and along his back were marks of cruel beatings. The stag stepped gingerly onto the path and came to the center, halfway between the two forests. His head lifted, and he uttered the precursor to the bellow of a full-grown deer. In response to the call of the stag, figures emerged from the forest.

Out of the dark forest struggled the dog, still wearing its chains, but whining a welcome. Out of the bright forest stalked the wolf, growling gently as it approached. From the edge of the road, the rat came, cowering and quivering. From its post above the road, the bat fluttered down and settled on the road between the rat and the stag.

The young stag collapsed, but the dog, now free of its chains and the wolf sprang to either side and supported the stag until it could once more stand on its own. Each of the four was welcomed by the young stag. Together, the five walked down the path, never veering to dark or light. Periodically, the stag would stumble over nothing, but the dog and wolf supported him until he was stable.

A blur of motion. The young stag was young no longer. His antlers were the size of those of a large deer but looked somewhat ridiculous on his small form. The wolf, the dog, the bat, and the rat accompanied the stag as he faced a dragon made of light and another of darkness.

A flash of light and a flash of darkness and a crossroads appeared on the path. The stag took one branch and his companions took another; but, as they parted, the two forests merged and the lighted forest had shadows beneath the leaves and the dark forest was no more.

~O~

Friday, June 21, 1991

Sirius woke with a start. He knew that he had been dreaming, but the dream seemed to indicate that his puppy was not being protected properly. That should be impossible. His puppy was protected; that was the reason for the godfather ceremony. To ensure his puppy's protection from those who would harm him. Uneasily, Sirius fell back into his scant pile of covers.

~O~

"Are you done sulking, Padfoot?" asked a stag, emerging from the wall of the cell.

"I think that Sirius is enjoying his role as martyr, James," said the doe that peered out of the wall behind the stag.

"Well, sulk or martyrdom, it's enough. It isn't your fault, Padfoot. The ritual was our idea. Yes, you tried to warn us, but ultimately it was our decision."

"You're dead," said Sirius, blinking at the sight of the two deer in his cell.

"Of course we are, Padfoot. Anyone struck by the killing curse dies," replied the stag, "Well, except for Harrison, but he is a special case."

"What does being dead have to do with anything, Sirius? All it does is expand your horizon. Just ask any portrait about death. They'll tell you that."

"Philosophical in your post-mortal state, Lils?"

The doe entered the cell fully, glowing faintly with the green light characteristic of the killing curse. "Sirius, I was philosophical in my mortal state. Why should I change?"

Sirius gaped but did not reply.

"So, Padfoot, why are you still here? Lily and I being killed was never your fault. Why are you here?"

"It was my fault," insisted Sirius. "I should have warned you; I had warning of what would happen that night, but I couldn't tell you in terms you could understand. I tried," he sobbed. "I really tried. I'm a bad friend and a worse godfather, I couldn't save you."

"Padfoot," snapped the stag, "I know very well that you warned us about that night. You know what they say about the looking into the past."

"Sirius," soothed the doe, "please, accept our forgiveness. You did your best as a friend. And, please, look after Harrison. He needs you."


	16. Chapter 16: In Death of Sleep What Dream

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

**Rituals and Consequences**

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Sixteen: In Death of Sleep What Dreams May Come

Thursday, June 20, 1991

Arcturus Black, Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, had insomnia. Not an uncommon ailment since his heir had been thrown into Azkaban. He stared at the underside of the canopy. The usual soothing effect of the constellations were absent tonight. He felt old more often than not, these days. Losing his son to darkness was bad enough, but losing his grandson without an opportunity to speak with him was worse.

Sitting up in bed, Arcturus looked at the tapestry that decorated the wall of his bedchamber. _The Sleeper_ was meant to be suggestive of rest, and the lush surroundings was supposed to temper the cares of the day. Nonetheless Arcturus was having trouble sleeping. It wasn't because of concerns with the Wizengamot, although that was definitely a concern; but concern for his grandson and heir, Sirius Black. The boy had been sorted into Gryffindor, much to Walburga's disgust, but Arcturus fully believed that the sorting had been accurate. No other reason than sheer stupid bravery would be sufficient to hold his son in Azkaban.

The wizarding prison was a hell on earth now, but more than a thousand years ago it had been a stronghold of the family that became known as the Black Family. No Black could be held in its confines without their tacit approval, and an innocent could not give that approval. Yet Sirius was innocent of the charges against him, Arcturus was sure of that. Somehow, Sirius must have felt sufficiently guilty about the deaths of James and Lily Potter that he felt it right that he remain in Azkaban.

"Fool," snorted Arcturus under his breath. "Stubborn Gryffindor to the bone. Blacks always have that stubbornness. I just wish..." his voice trailed off as he fell asleep.

~O~

Dream Begins

Arcturus stood at a crossroads. Three paths diverging from the point beneath his feet. One of the paths led to a bright forest; the trees themselves shining with light. Another path led to a forest as dark as the first was light; the leaves of all of plants seemed to suck in the light and shimmer at the edge of visibility. The final path led to a forest that appeared perfectly normal, light from above struck the leaves and shadows fell on the plants below.

"Choose a path," said a female voice, young and light.

"Must I?" asked Arcturus.

"Choose a path," said another female voice, mature and deadly with menace.

"Why?" asked Arcturus.

"Choose a path," said a third female voice, wavering and cracking with age.

"A Black is always balanced," said Arcturus, and started on the path to the normal forest with its light and shadows intermixed.

"Well chosen, child," the voices said in unison.

"Prepare to succor the dog, he comes wounded," said the mature voice.

"Contact his brothers, the wolf and the rat; they will aid," the elderly voice quavered.

"Protect his child, for the child is hope," contributed the young female voice.

"Protect the balance, for the balance returns at last," contributed the mature voice.

"The light strikes against the dark, and both war against the balance," hummed the elderly voice.

"The balance will prevail whether soon or late, but the destroyer comes until the balance returns. Protect the balance. Black balances White, Light balances Dark, Life balances Death. Renew the balance for the life of all," and the three voices went silent.

~O~

Arcturus awoke and sat up in the bed. The posts that supported the canopy at the foot of the bed had been carved to appear as torches in flame. A lovely bit of enchantment allowed the flame to flicker and burn when the occupant was awake. Arcturus stared at the torches and whispered, "Three? Hekate? A dog, a wolf and a rat? A stag?" His voice strengthened, "Sirius? How many years? Of course!" He got out of bed and called for his personal house elf, "Matilda!"

"What can Tildy be doing for Master Arcturus?" asked the house elf, popping into the room, her wizened form clad in a pristine white pillowcase embroidered with the Black family crest.

"Prepare the heir's quarters for my grandson."

"Yes, Master Arcturus," she said before popping away.

Donning his dressing gown, Arcturus walked to the Black Family library. Reaching the index, he asked for books on Azkaban. The library returned a stack of four books, including the book about the construction of Azkaban before its second life as a prison.

"Heart's Ease," Arcturus muttered, "ironic that Eochaid's refuge has become a place of torture for my heir. I'll bet that the Ministry never bothered to change the keys." He snorted, "Unlikely that they would go to the trouble. How frequently does the heir find himself in prison. As soon as he feels the price has been paid, he will leave that place, I must be prepared for his coming."

Arcturus reached for a quill and began a list: Nutrient potions. Dreamless sleep? "Maybe not." Healer? "Heilende Durian, of course. He's discrete." Contact the boy's friends. "What was that boy's name?"

~O~

June 1, 1975

Lord Charlus Potter fire-called Lord Arcturus Black each other at least once per month to exchange the tales their heirs told of their latest adventures their heirs had managed to find at Hogwarts.

"Did Sirius write you about their friend Remus Lupin?" asked Charlus.

"Yes, and I know the boy is a werewolf," replied Arcturus.

"That explains things during the Yule break somewhat," mused Charlus, smirking slightly.

"Okay, Charlus, come through. I've got to hear the reason behind that smirk."

"You didn't notice while you were here?"

"Call me a fond grandfather, but I was more interested in Sirius than his love affairs."

"Then you didn't notice the Grim that was hanging around the edges of the lawn shortly after you arrived?"

"Yes, but I thought it must be another of your pets. After all, you had a stag peacefully eating out of your wife's hand."

"True, he ate an entire Buche de Noel before Matilda caught up with him," Charlus said, his grin becoming even more evil.

"And..."

"The stag was my son, and the Grim was your grandson."

"What? Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Arcturus demanded.

"Watching you was fun," said Charlus. "Besides, they did it for the most Gryffindor of reasons. A werewolf will not attack an animagus in animal form. Now that Belby has perfected a Wolfsbane potion that allows a werewolf to keep their human mind during the full moon, I'm going to have to buy rights to the thing."

"Because otherwise you'll have a feral werewolf on your hands at the full moon?"

"Exactly."

~O~

June 21, 1991

"Ah, yes," murmured Arcturus. "Remus Lupin. I should have remembered that. I'll wager that the boy still has contacts with Gringotts at least, if only to obtain Wolfsbane each month."

"Maximilian!"

"Yes, Master Arcturus, what can Maxie be doing for you?" asked a male house elf.

Arcturus sighed, "I wish you would refer to yourself by your full name." He shook his head as to dispel frustration, "Would you please take this letter to Gringotts and wait for a reply? If the reply will take longer than a few minutes, come back and I will send an owl. It's urgent."

"Yes, Master Arcturus, sir," responded the elf and popped away.

"What else?" muttered Arcturus. "What am I forgetting? Blast this feeling old!" He stood up from the chair and paced the area around it for several minutes, stopping occasionally to write down an item on the list, but still seemed unsatisfied. "I'm missing something quite obvious." Another few minutes of pacing and his face lit up, "Of course, Harrison. The boy's puppy! Nothing will help him heal more than seeing his godson, but where is he? Wait for a reply from the goblins, talk to Lupin, and then we'll see."

Matilda popped into the library. "Master Arcturus, sir? The heir's quarters are freshened. Do you be needing anything else?"

"Matilda, where is the last place you would put a magical child?"

"With muggles, Master Arcturus. With magic-hating muggles."

"Thank you, Matilda. I wonder if Dumbledore would be that brilliant and that stupid?"


	17. Chapter 17: Dream a LIttle Dream of Me

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

**Rituals and Consequences**

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Seventeen: Dream a Little Dream of Me

Thursday, June 20, 1991

Remus had been contemplating pranks for the past two days. For no reason that he could pinpoint, he had decided that the family that the staff at the zoo had discussed deserved to be tormented with a prank worthy of the Marauders. Although he had not seen their behavior, something abut their scent had been driving Moony slightly berserk. Tonight he had gotten home early and had nothing to anticipate except a few more chapters of translation.

Moony kept whispering something, and it was driving Remus nuts that he couldn't figure out what his wolf wanted. After several hours of attempting to translate his current project, Remus gave up in disgust and crawled into bed. An hour later, his eyes closed and he was finally able to sleep.

~O~

Dream Begins

The alpha female of the Chessington Zoo pack approached Remus, nudging a small cub before her. The cub whimpered at the pressure of her nose, and its ribs could be counted through the patchy fur. The cub looked sick, and Remus would have guessed that the cub was almost ready to die.

Still the alpha female nudged the cub closer to Remus as he stood in his human form. "Watch the cub!" she ordered.

"I can't," explained Remus.

"You have no cub," she said. "Watch over this one!"

"I have a cub, but he's missing," replied Remus.

"Take this one," insisted the alpha female. "It needs a good pack to guide and protect it."

"Does it seek another pack?" Remus asked.

"It does not know that such is allowed. Its current pack is cruel. The alphas do not understand the ways of cubs. They do not deserve such a cub."

"I do not deserve a cub until after I find my own."

"Take this one," she insisted. "This one will train you for one of your own."

"Why would you trust a cub to me? I lost the one for whom I was responsible. How could such as I deserve to train a cub."

"Ask for help," she suggested, grinning in the way that wolves can.

"From whom?"

"Dogs are relatives. Perhaps a dog could help. They know the ways of humans better than we. Even you who are wolf only sometimes need assistance to understand the ways of humans."

"If the dog is able to help. Perhaps the dog is a better choice for a guardian for the cub."

"The cub needs two, and two, and two guardians."

"Six guardians? Is the cub in danger?"

"A cub is always in danger when too young and foolish to know what it faces. A cub gains protection from guardians and strength from the pack. Experience and strength is gained from danger faced with assistance as needed. One does not expect a cub to kill on his first attempt. I do not allow my cubs to hunt alone until they have hunted successfully under my eye."

"When will I meet this cub?"

"Soon and soon, if your lady wills it."

~O~

Friday, June 21, 1991

Remus jolted awake. He knew that the alpha female from any pack had the right to bestow guardianship on one of the lesser wolves. But why was she so insistent that he take on this one. Her pack had no cubs of the apparent age of the one she attempted to transfer to his care.

Sighing in confusion, Remus rolled over and pulled the coverlet up to his ears. He needed sleep if he was to work tomorrow. Wriggling his shoulder to plump the pillow and better support his neck, Remus fell back into sleep.

~O~

Moony howled at his lady, begging for the return of his cub. Too many times she had come and gone with no trace of his cub. He sensed that his cub was in danger and was determined to find him. Again he howled and realized that his lady had appeared before him. "Please, gracious lady, help me find my cub. I miss him," whimpered the wolf.

"You will be with him soon," said his lady.

"Over a hundred cycles I have searched. I have kept hunting for a trace of my cub. Please, my lady, where is he?"

"Soon, faithful one, soon."

Moony settled into a watchful pose, ears and nose alert for the slightest trace of his cub, but his cub did not appear. Instead the alpha female from the Chessington pack stalked out of the darkened wood made all the darker by the brilliance of the moon.

"Come, wanderer," she said.

"I must wait for my cub," he replied.

"Wait with the pack. The pack brings comfort."

"Still I must wait for my cub."

"Foolish wanderer," she snarled. "Have you not smelled your cub? Have you no nose at all? Has the two-leg within you deadened your senses?" She snapped at him impatiently, "Come! I have a cub I need you to tend."

Moony sighed and got up, "Yes, alpha, I come. Show me this cub."

~O~

Friday, June 21, 1991

Again Remus was jolted out of his dream. His wolf had smelled his cub? Was that what had been driving him mad all week? Realizing that it must be so, he was determined to return to the zoo and hopefully find his cub. But, first, he must get more sleep. It had been a long day, and he needed the rest. Remus snuggled into his pillow, reassured somewhat now that he had a plan, if only the suggestion of his goddess and the alpha female of the pack in a dream.

~O~

Remus stood at the edge of the wolf enclosure, watching the pack at play. Suddenly a furious battle erupted among the younger members of the pack, and the alpha female stepped in to settle the matter. From the center of the fight, she extracted a small cub and carried it by the loose skin of the neck to Remus. "Watch him," she ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," Remus politely replied.

The cub was almost too small to be outside of the nursery area, it was tiny, barely half the size of the other cubs.

"Mother alpha, how old is this cub?" he inquired politely.

"The same age as the others of course. It is smaller, but it has survived what few are called upon to do. I thought that you would be the best one to watch the cub. It has the same interests as you."

_Reading?_ wondered Remus. On his best watching behavior he examined the cub. It was indeed tiny, but also looked half-starved. The cub lay, curled where the alpha had dropped it. Remus, somehow in wolf form, nudged it with his nose. The cub moaned and reluctantly uncurled somewhat. Remus got his first look at the cub's eyes. Always before the cub kept its head lowered as if to protect its vulnerable throat. For a split second, the cub looked up at Remus and Remus was caught in the gaze of a pair of eyes the color of fine emeralds, pure and serene. These were not the eyes of a young cub; no, these were the eyes you would see from someone who had faced death repeatedly and survived to tell the tale.

~O~

Friday, June 21, 1991

Remus jolted awake to the tapping of an owl at his window. A wave of his wand opened the window, allowing the bird entry. The impatient bird deigned to accept an owl treat in return for its delivery and was away. Remus unsealed the letter and read the short note from his account manager at Gringotts: "Mr Lupin, Lord Arcturus Black requested communication with you. The owl will not stay. Indicate your preferred method of communication. Knifeclaw."

Remus chuckled at Knifeclaw's usual brevity. He got out of bed, reached under it and extracted a box. The box top opened to reveal a supply of parchment, ink and quill. Remus composed a note to Knifeclaw: "Knifeclaw, Busy. Deliver note. Lupin." A second note was less brief: "Lord Black, I will be available to speak with you this evening at Gringotts. Ask for Knifeclaw. Respectfully, Lupin."

Remus opened another drawer on the box revealing the current _Daily Prophet_ and _The Quibbler, _removed the newspapers, inserted the notes into the compartment, and closed the drawer.

Remus yawned, crawled back into bed, pulled the covers up to his nose, and closed his eyes. Three seconds later his eyes snapped open in realization. The alpha female had been trying to get him to watch over a cub, and Remus hadn't recognized his own cub. As Remus wondered how the alpha female knew about his cub, he fell asleep once more.


	18. Chapter 18: The Lonely Dreamer

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

Rituals and Consequences

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Eighteen: The Lonely Dreamer

Thursday, June 20, 1991

Far from the other dreamers, Peter Pettigrew's day drew to a close. His day had been the long drudgery of avoiding notice, being tormented by memories, and being afraid. Fear, especially long-term fear, drains the body of energy. A short burst of fear caused the heart to beat harder, the mind to become sharper, the vision and hearing more acute, but long-term fear caused fatigue, dulled thinking, and limited emotions. Peter was a classic example as he longed for the day when his hiding would be over. He was certain that it would be soon, but he could not be absolutely certain. He crawled beneath the several layers of blankets that made up his bed and fell asleep shivering. Whether the shivers were from cold, fear, or anticipation, he could not have said– not even awake. As he finally fell into a deep sleep, Peter's features relaxed. He no longer resembled the slightly pudgy boy from Hogwarts; he had matured, but no one who met him would be able to tell. Peter's sleep was deep for most of the night, but near dawn, he slipped into dreams.

~O~

"Time," intoned a light, youthful voice. "It is time."

"Time and past," commented a second, older voice.

"Summon the knights; assemble the warriors; the pack must be collected," said a third voice, and a pool of light appeared around a lit torch.

"They come," said the first voice.

"They always come to the call," responded the second voice.

~O~

Peter stirred in his sleep. A thumping from outside his bed intruded sufficiently to integrate itself into his dream.

~O~

"Father of curiosity, father of play, father of mind, and father of heart. Mother of hope, mother of will, mother of wisdom, and mother of power. Gather the fathers; call the mothers; unite the family."

The voices stilled and the pool of light grew larger as it revealed a roadway and the tangle of a unkempt hedge. A soft thud sounded in the distance, causing the leaves on the hedge to shiver slightly. A slightly louder thud was accompanied by the appearance of a break in the hedge. The break was filled with swirling silver mist that obscured the figure approaching the hedge until is stepped onto the road. The wolf's fur was almost the same color as the mist, but as it moved away from the hedge the color darkened. The wolf carried a cub, looking too young to be away from its mother, in its jaws. The wolf settled into a waiting position on the road and released the cub to play between its front legs, but the cub huddled against the warm fur and refused to move.

Some distance from the break in the hedge, a dog appeared, tall and long-haired, and the black hair emitted a strange yellowish glow.

~O~

Peter whimpered in his sleep. He recognized that form; it was the ill-omened frame of a grim. It had been a source of great amusement to the Marauders that their most playful member had a form that inspired so much fear. Sirius was the black dog– the guardian who played with the pack, but attacked outsiders ferociously.

~O~

The grim approached the wolf and examined the cub cowering against the soft silver fur. The cub, hearing and scenting a new arrival, lifted his head and stared at the black dog. A soft whine, almost pleading, came from the tiny throat and a huge, wet tongue proceeded to wash the cub. The cub responded to the grooming by coming closer to the grim. The grim settled down next to the wolf and continued grooming the cub.  
The impromptu grooming session was interrupted by another thud that shook the leaves on the hedge visibly. A bat, soft black with three foot leathery wings, fluttered over the top of the hedge and settled next to the wolf. The wolf and grim growled a challenge, but the bat ignored them as it walked towards them on thumbs and feet.

Just as the bat approached the group, another thud sounded, louder and closer. This thud shook the smaller twigs, but the quartet ignored it, too busy examining each other to worry about distant noises. Another thud coincided with the arrival of a rat, scurrying along the edge of the road, equally ready to dash back into the hedge and out into the road.

As another thud sounded, a stag and a doe walked out of the hedge, their translucent bodies unimpeded by the barrier. As the two approached the wolf and dog, the cub looked out from his safe haven between wolf and dog and whined inquisitively. The wolf swiped the cub with a tongue and gave a reassuring snort. The grim's ears lifted and his tail began to sweep back and forth.

As the deer came closer, the cub transformed into a fawn, the fawn was still striped and dappled as protection against predators. His transformation was greeted by a pleased bark from the dog. The wolf, being more reserved, gave a whuff and lifted ears as the fawn staggered to his feet and touched noses with the stag to the accompaniment of another thud, somehow more hollow.

~O~

Peter stirred almost to wakefulness, and a chain around his neck caught the light as he shifted. However, he subsided back into deeper slumber and slipped back into the dream. The dream landscape shifted as such are prone to do.

~O~

A pale glow illuminated a trio of figures seated around a fire, the eldest spoke in a voice wavering with age, "Balance comes."

The second figure spoke in a firm voice, "The warriors gather."

The third considered the other two a moment then commented, "The lever is in place."

~O~

Peter started awake to a series of thuds that rattled the wall. He struggled for a few moments to distinguish between dream and reality. The thuds resolved themselves into the thumping of a badger shuffling along the edge of the building. The dream faded as he awakened fully, but two things stood out as the rest of the dream faded into mist, the wolf and grim were together again, and the young fawn was alive and would soon join them.

Peter shuddered, lay back down and tried to get some more sleep. Tomorrow would be another long day, but the day past marked one less day he had to endure until he would be free from terror.


	19. Chapter 19: To Dream the Impossible Drea

**To all of our readers, and fans: Due to life happening and a few snags in the story, we will be releasing once a week for the next few months with maybe a special here and there. No we don't have writers block, we just have to figure out some of the characters first before writing their chapters. Look for our next release next Friday.**

**Thanks for all the comments and reviews.**

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

**Rituals and Consequences**

**by mmagicwolf and WickerChair**

**Chapter Nineteen: To Dream the Impossible Dream**

Thursday, June 20, 1991

Harrison anticipated the end of the school year.

He anticipated with glee the end of the last year that he was to be trapped with Dudley in his class. Harrison was quite certain that Vernon had successfully gotten Dudley a place at some prestigious secondary school. Harrison wanted to be free of Dudley's influence in class. It would be marvelous to be able to stretch himself and learn as much as he could. He also looked forward to being in a school where he would not be bullied by Dudley and the other children were not so terrified of Dudley that they would not associate with Harrison. It would be nice to have a friend his own age.

Harrison anticipated with dread the end of the last year that he would be at school with Miss Marian. For the past seven years, she had been the only bright spot in his school life. Marian had literally saved his sanity with her provision of more reading material and of people with whom to communicate. Harrison did not want to lose the outlet that Marian's friends provided. With them, he was someone who could discuss law with a lawyer and the latest discoveries at CERN with an physicist with equal weight and not be laughed at. He was also allowed to assist in research, something he enjoyed greatly.

What would he do without Marian to act as a go-between? He needed the mental stimulation. Although libraries contained much information, there were some things which required more information and experience than he had to understand. Even Marian had appeared shocked at some of the basic questions he had asked. Those basic questions were part of the reason he was still awake this evening.

Harrison had been reading the _Children Act 1989_, and was still confused. It appeared that the statute referred to his situation. It stated that a child could request a guardianship to be revoked, but it also stated that the Family Court could do nothing if the guardians objected and the child in question was under the age of sixteen. Not that Harrison wanted to wait until he was sixteen. Five more years of living with the Dursleys might very well kill him. The beatings were bad enough, but they generally healed within a day or two, but the lack of food and water when he was confined to the cupboard was a problem for which he had no solution. Harrison was well aware that he was tiny for his age. He ascribed it to the chronic lack of food and hard labor he was required to perform for the Dursleys.

The few times he had protested to Petunia, she harangued him about his lack of appreciation and how they, the Dursleys, had taken him in out of the goodness of their hearts and in appreciation he should be grateful to have anything. He took food from the mouths of her dear Vernon and darling Dudley and was an ungrateful wretch who deserved to be sent to his cupboard without any dinner. Harrison made the mistake of asking Vernon only once. The resulting beating had taken three days to heal, and his right arm had been sore for more than a week. That incident had taken place near the end of the Christmas break, and Harrison was unable to write for most of the first week of school. He had gotten in trouble with his teacher, of course; but Marian had just looked at him when he told her he could not write. Her visiting friend had suggested that Harrison go to a doctor, but Harrison looked blank and asked why. The bruises had healed and the arm would be normal within the week after all. If he went to the doctor, Vernon would find out that he told someone and the resulting beating would be worse.

Sometimes Harrison wished he could stay with Marian, but that was impossible. She was newly married and Harrison suspected strongly that she would have a child near Christmas. Besides, she and her husband were still at the honeymoon stage after getting married this last Easter break.

Harrison sometimes dreamed in a vague sort of way of having a place where he would be loved and protected. A family of his own. It was impossible. He knew impossibility when he encountered it. No family would take him in. But someone might be declared his guardian who could take him away from the Dursleys, somewhere safe and warm with enough food and, add impossibility to impossibility, a library with books that he had not already read. Concentrating on the sensation of warmth rather than its impossibility, Harrison slipped into the depths of sleep.

~O~

Harrison found himself drifting through warm mists. He became aware of bright spots and opened his eyes to see a warm blanket tucked under his chin. He was surrounded by people he had never met before. Wondering what was going on, Harrison felt a wrenching sensation and was suddenly an observer rather than a participant.

A small child lay, wrapped in a warm blanket in the center of a circle. At the center of the circle, standing over the child was a statue, a woman holding a torch and accompanied by a dog.

Touching the edges of the inscribed circle in three places, a triangle had been drawn on the short grass. At each corner of the triangle a torch had been driven into the ground. People stood beside the torches, two each at two corners and one at the third. At the points where circle touched triangle stood animals. At first Harrison thought they were statues since they were so still, but a wisp of breeze ruffled the hair on the back of the stag. The doe beside the stag snorted, the dog barked gently as if laughing, and the wolf at the final point lifted its head swished its tail gently in amusement.

Harrison was fascinated by the animals, but his attention was drawn to the man who stood alone at one of the corners of the triangle as he spoke, "I call upon the power of Sun, of Moon, of Magic, of Life. Hecate, patron goddess of magic, attend our needs. I call upon Hecate Apotropaia to protect this child. I call upon Hecate Propolos to help him seek truth. I call upon Hecate Triodia to guide his steps. Thrice named, thrice called, Hecate heed our plea. His mother comes to ask for protection. His father comes to ask for help. His godfathers come to ask for guidance. Hecate, Magic's mother, mark this child."

Harrison watched as a finger, pale as the marble statue to which it was attached, reached down and traced a finger down the child's forehead. "Harrison James Potter, marked by me, you are thrice mine. Son of power, mine to protect. Son of magic, mine to guide. Son of nature, mine to assist. You are mine, Harrison. Your mother and father shall have you a short while, but you will always be mine. Remember your name, keep it, for the loss of a name is the loss of part of your self."

~O~

Friday, June 21, 1991

Harrison awoke with a jolt. He had always wondered why he had been unwilling to accept being called Harry by the Dursleys or by his teachers. Even Marian and her friends called him Harrison. He had, subconsciously remembered those instructions to never lose his name. Harrison yawned, rolled over, and fell back into dreams.

~O~

Warmth, a living warmth cradling him. Harrison opened his eyes and looked at the wall of black fur he rested against. One hand also grasped fur and he brought it close to his eyes for inspection. The action was greeted by a yelp as a grey head was tugged closer by an ear. Fascinated by the texture in his hand, Harrison put the ear in his mouth and bit down. The louder yelp was echoed by a call of "Moony, what have you done now?"

The black hair he rested against transformed into a soft shirt which responded in a calm voice, "Prongslet has become a carnivore. He's testing his teeth on Moony's ear."

"Oh Harrison," sighed the voice.

Harrison could make out a halo of red, tamed somewhat into a braid.

"Sirius, why is Moony in the nursery on a full moon?"

"It's comforting for him to be around his pack, besides he loves the puppy."

"You... men," she huffed. "Come here, Harrison, let Moony's ear go. It's attached and I don't think he wants to help change your diaper."

"Mama? Mooey?" queried Harrison.

"No, Harrison, Moony will not come distract you during your diaper change."

"Mama? Pah-foo?" queried Harrison.

"Sorry, puppy," said Sirius, "I don't do diapers unless there's no other choice."

~O~

Friday, June 21, 1991

Harrison felt a jolt of recognition go through him. That sensation he sometimes remembered, of fur and of warmth, had been Padfoot and Moony. Padfoot was Sirius, who could change back and forth between dog and man. But for some reason Harrison could not remember Moony's other name. Setting the problem aside to be dealt with in the morning, Harrison flipped to his back and looked up at the underside of the stairs.

"Moony," he murmured, "Who is Moony?" as he slipped back into dreams.

~O~

The forest edge was dark, but the grass was washed with moonlight. From the forest emerged a man with messy brown reflecting the light of the moon, but as soon as his body crossed the line between shadow and moonlight, he began to transform into a wolf. Soon the familiar form of Moony stood before Harrison. As the wolf loped off, Harrison heard a familiar voice from the ground, "You will see him soon, young speaker." He looked down and saw the Sri Lankan python, Silsilah from the zoo.

~O~

Friday, June 21, 1991

"Soon, young speaker, soon," rang in Harrison's ears as he awoke to his mental alarm. Five minutes later, he heard Petunia's feet strike the floor in her bedroom, and the day began.

Harrison's dreams faded as his day progressed; he knew only too well the difference between fantasy and reality. Reality was stripes from Vernon, cuffs from Petunia, and punches from Dudley, mixed with yells from all of them. Fantasy was something else; something Harrison had read about in books, families that hugged instead of struck, spoke softly and gently most of the time, and never overindulged any of their children.

Reality was Miss Marian as the only adult at school who could be trusted; fantasy was being able to progress as fast as he could while asking questions. Fantasy was being told well-done when he had done well. Reality was going to school as often as the Dursleys allowed, only to have Dudley steal his homework and claim it as his own or just destroy it. Still the dream voice lingered, the voice of temptation, hinting that things would soon change.


	20. Chapter 20: Absent Without Official Leav

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

Thank-you to all of our reviewers for their comments!

**Rituals and Consequences**

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

**Chapter Twenty: Absent Without Official Leave**

Friday, June 21, 1991

Sirius snapped awake to stare at the walls of his cell, it had been a weird dream. Prongs and Lils peering out of the wall. Perhaps he had finally descended into madness. It was impossible to see them. James and Lily were dead. It was his own wishful thinking, nothing more. Nothing had changed about the gloomy cell of Azkaban; the light was still just bright enough to allow him to see the extent of his prison. Depression settled over him at the passing of a Dementor outside the cell, but Sirius no longer cared. He had gone insane, he was quite certain of that. He had talked with figments of his own imagination. Wishful thinking that affected reality in no way. Nothing had changed, and nothing would until his sentence was complete.

Nothing ever changed in Azkaban except the despair grew deeper with exposure to the Dementors. Sirius glanced around his cell again, no, nothing had changed. Nothing, except for the two tufts of fur on the gray stone floor of the cell. One tuft was the long dusky red of a stag, and the other the shorter, more gray of a doe. Sirius looked at the fur and began to laugh. The laugh harsh with disuse, but testified of the continuation of life and the certainty of freedom. The dream had been real enough to leave traces. Real enough to offer forgiveness.

"Thank you," he finally whispered. "I do not deserve your forgiveness, but I accept it. I will find the puppy and protect him. No one will ever harm him again."

"Sirius, you can't protect him from everything. Just give him your love and support."

"That was all we ever asked of you, Padfoot."

A new voice entered the conversation, young and light. "Child, you stand at a crossroads. Which way will you go?"

"I am already insane," replied Sirius, "else I would not see those who are dead."

"Which way?" demanded the voice. As it spoke it changed to a more mature, richer tone, "Will you continue to wallow in the filth of your own guilt like a dog? Or, like a man, will you accept that you made a mistake?" The voice shifted from the rich, mature tone to one cracking with age, "Choose! Which way will you go?"

"The way I have always gone," said Sirius. "My friends are my chosen family. And family must always be pure. Honor must be maintained. I choose my family."

"Where will you go?" asked the young voice.

"If you visited him with a similar dream to mine, my Lady," replied Sirius, "my grandfather will be prepared."

"So be it," said the voice, now mature. "Follow the torches, they lead the way."

"But remember the rules," offered the cracking, wavering voice.

"I am innocent in the death of the Potters," said Sirius. "It was your will, my Lady. I just wish there had been another way."

"There is always another path, my child," said the youthful voice. "But the path is not determined by merely one. Many contributed to this path. But you must walk it now. With honor must you walk. With a knowledge of innocence must you walk. With love must you walk."

"The Dementors," protested Sirius.

"Love does not fear for itself, only for its object."

"Yes, my Lady," responded Sirius. He got to his feet, gathering the blanket around him and walked toward the wall, lit by a pair of torches. As he approached the wall, the torches flared and he was suddenly elsewhere.

~O~

Sirius tried to explain the sensation of travel, if only to himself. Apparation has been compared to being squeezed through a tube. Portkey travel has been described as having something pull you inside out using a hook behind your navel. The sensation of floo travel spins the traveler in place, go too long or too far and you emerge dizzy.

This was different. He had walked toward the wall, and now he was falling, but not toward the ground. More forward than down. He saw things as he fell. A balance with a feather on one side and a heart on the other. A crossroads presided over by a woman carrying a dagger and key. Many others that passed in a blur. He continued falling for was seemed either an instant or an eternity until, before him, appeared a wall lit by another pair of torches. Sirius slowed his fall and struck the wall before falling forward and collapsing on the floor.

Glad to no longer falling, it took a long while before Sirius realized something odd about the floor on which he lay. It was warm. Soft and dry. He reached his out his hand and touched the surface before him. It yielded to his touch, the softness curling about his fingers.

"Thank you, Lady," he whispered, "I will fulfill my promise."

As Sirius sprawled on the soft, warm floor, his toes uncurled. With each small movement his body sought more contact with the softness and the warmth. Fingers, cramped and twisted from years of cold and disuse, gradually relaxed into the warmth. Then the smaller muscles of his arms released their knots. The sudden lack of tension brought a lassitude, a reluctance, even an inability, to move. Sirius was aware of the silence around him and welcomed the emotional warmth that accompanied the absence of Dementors. As he lay, floating in the sensation of warmth and comfort, he remembered Lily's phrase, "I don't think we're in Kansas any more." As he drifted off into the first restful sleep in years, Sirius mused, "I'm sure I'm not in Azkaban any more. Thank you, Lady, thank you."

As Sirius drifted off, he was unaware of the consternation he left behind in Azkaban.

~O~

The check of prisoners in Azkaban seldom occurred, primarily because of the reluctance of human guards to interact with Dementors, but also because of the impossibility of escaping from the prison. However, the annual check of prisoners on June 21 had shown a problem. The guard who checked the fifth level was certain that he was one prisoner short. All of the door were still locked, and the wards were still intact. But he was certain that he remembered another prisoner on this level. There was no evidence of a missing prisoner. The empty cells were all completely empty with no blanket or other indication of occupation.

When the guard returned to the upper levels of the prison and checked the records for the fifth level, he saw that no prisoners were missing. According to the records, the level held precisely as many prisoners as he had observed. However, no prisoners had been released in the past year, none had died, and he could have sworn that there was one other prisoner on that level. He did not know the name of the prisoner, nor did he really care; he just wanted to make sure that his records were correct.

At the end of the shift, after all of the prisoners were counted, he asked his fellow guards if any of them had an extra or a missing prisoner. All responded in the negative and the guard returned home, puzzled by the anomaly. An anomaly he was certain would never be resolved.


	21. Chapter 21: Be Our Guest

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

Rituals and Consequences

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Twenty-One: Be Our Guest

Friday, June 21, 1991

Lord Arcturus Black considered the possibilities. If Dumbledore had truly been brilliant and stupid enough to place Harrison with magic-hating muggles, then Arcturus had more problems that healing his wayward grandson and heir. A wizarding child had grown with no explanation for the accidental magic that he performed and was possibly punished for performing such magic. Worse, his godson could be unaware of his status as a protectorate of the Black family through Sirius. Worst of all, if the child had truly been abused, the child might have physical and emotional problems of his own. Arcturus was not willing to wait for the end of the following school year to get access to the child. It was vital to have the child present to assist in the healing of Sirius from his emotional trauma, and perhaps heal from his own.

Arcturus sat down at his desk and asked, "Matilda?"

The house elf scurried over from where she had been reshelving the books Arcturus had finished reading. "What can Tildy be doing for Master Arcturus?"

"Are you able to locate Harrison Potter?"

The house elf's eyes widened and a tear rolled down her cheek, "Tildy cannot, Master Arcturus. Last Sunday, Tildy was feeling the boy for the first time. It was faint, but Tildy be knowing the boy is not dead. Tildy is being sorry, but Tildy cannot be going to him." The elf began pulling her ears in distress.

"Just checking, Matilda. Would you bring my breakfast here? I know it is still quite early, but I was up rather early."

The elf's expression immediately brightened, "Tildy is doing that. Master Arcturus will wait just a moment," and she popped away.

"Elf wards? Is the man utterly insane? To block house elves requires that the child be removed from all contact with nature." Arcturus pulled out a piece of parchment and a red quill, made from a griffon feather. He spoke as he wrote, "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, You are an evil man without regard for the health and happiness of the child. You placed wards around Harrison Potter to prevent any house elves from finding him, but in doing so you crippled his connections with the natural world. May your actions redound upon you, whether soon or late. Your disregard for humanity has resulted in the possible loss of a child's life, and almost certainly his childhood. I call upon the Morae, the powers of my family, and Magic herself to stand in judgment upon you. May you suffer a fraction of the ills you visited upon the child. So say I, so write I, so mote it be. Lord Arcturus Black." As soon as Arcturus had finished speaking and writing, the parchment curled up and disappeared with a dark flash.

Looking up at the tapestry hanging on the wall, Arcturus spoke once more, "My Lady, may my words have power, if you will. I stand as a Black. I stand for balance. I request redress for the children. That man has harmed more than me and mine, punish him as you see fit."

As if in response, the vines in the center of the tapestry writhed to form the words, "Wait. No martyrs."

Arcturus bowed deeply, "Yes, my Lady. I will train myself to patience."

Arcturus rose from his bow as Matilda returned with a tray bearing his usual breakfast, and a copy of the _Daily Prophet_. He acknowledged her with a smile and began eating. "Thank you, Matilda. Breakfast is, as always, delicious."

The house elf grinned widely and waited for him to finish. Then she and the dishes popped away. Arcturus studied the newspaper and analyzed the new for possibilities of biographical leverage. He was honest with himself, the less polite would call it blackmail, but an awareness of the availability of leverage had allowed the Black family to continue for millennia. He was not about to let silly things like scruples prevent him from protecting the family honor.

~O~

"Master Arcturus, goblins be sending a reply," said Maximilian, popping into the library.

Arcturus looked at the clock and was startled to see that he had been occupied for almost two hours.

"What is the message, Maximilian?"

"Lord Black is to come to Gringotts after dark this evening. The meeting will occur then."

"So, the boy has connections," mused Arcturus. "Very well. Maximilian, return with a message of assent to Gringotts, then continue to Geneva. I need Heilende Durian. His assistance will be vital when my son returns. Tell him that the matter is most urgent and that he should plan to stay for at least two months. I will, of course, pay."

"Yes, Master Arcturus, Maxie be passing messages."

~O~

Two hours later the elf returned. "The goblins be thanking Master Arcturus for the courtesy of a reply. The healer be coming in a few minutes if Master Arcturus be opening the floo. Healer be saying that it is time for him to be checking on the wound you be calling about."

"Thank you, Maximilian. Although I am not certain that wounds of the heart are within his practice."

"Physical wounds of the heart perhaps not," came a voice with a cross between a French and German accent. "Mind wounds are my field, repair of emotional damage is my field. Where is my patient?"

"He is not here yet, Heilende Durian. I expect his arrival some time this evening."

"You called me before the patient came? Lord Black," he paused and shook his head, "Arcturus, what are you up to?"

Arcturus frowned, "This is covered under the confidentiality between healer and patient, yes?"

The healer smiled, "If I were a British citizen, no. But I am Swiss. Even the fools in your ministry do not dare impugn the honor of a Swiss healer lest they find themselves without one if they need it."

"André, I am expecting my grandson to escape from Azkaban some time within the next four days. I hope that he will arrive here soon thereafter."

"Azkaban? My Lord, are you insane? No one escapes from Azkaban."

Arcturus' lips lifted in a sly grin. "André, long before it became known as Azkaban, the place of no hope, that castle was known as Cree Sôlasach, Heart's Ease. It was built by a Black in 896. The ministry did not get their hands on it until nearly 1150, but the Blacks still hold some of the wards. The ministry just doesn't know about it."

André's mouth fell open, and he stared dumbfounded at Arcturus' widening grin.

Matilda interrupted the tableau. "Master Arcturus, you be having a visitor."

"Show him in, Matilda."

"Tildy is not being able to do so. He is being asleep on the rug by your bed."

"At the foot of the bed I presume, Matilda?"

"How is Master Arcturus be knowing where his visitor is sleeping?"

Arcturus sighed and faced the healer, "André, it seems I underestimated the boy. Let's go; I'll show you your patient. He has probably literally been to Hel and back."

"Hell? You mean Azkaban?"

"Hel, the goddess of death."


	22. Chapter 22: Pots Thrown on the Wheel of

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potte characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

Rituals and Consequences

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Twenty-Two: Pots Thrown on the Wheel of Fortune

Friday, June 21, 1991

The gates of Gryffham Abbey were open. They remained open except when the Earl of Gryffham himself closed them to celebrate a family birthday, wedding, or funeral. Liam Potter nodded to his cousin as he entered the grounds, certain that today would finally be the day. He and his many cousins had searched for the missing Earl of Gryffham for over nine years. The young earl had not even been formally presented to the family before his disappearance, and the family had been in an uproar ever since. Liam acted as the trustee for the estate of the Earl of Gryffham, but certain actions required the presence of the Earl himself. Liam hoped that he would find his lord soon. He had never anticipated taking control for this long. Once the Earl was located, a council would take over, training the young earl and guiding his steps. But until the new earl was presented, the will of the previous earl held sway, and Liam had been named as guardian of the estate until the young earl reached an age where he could make his own decisions.

Exiting his car, Liam glanced over the gardens that formed the historic source of the wealth of the earls of Gryffham. The herb beds and flowers blooming in exuberant display had been found nowhere else in England until Kew Gardens and its botanical study were established. For more than six centuries, the Earl of Gryffham and protected the Abbey of St Joseph and St James, and, in return, the abbots had provided the earl with the raw ingredients for perfumes and potions that decorated the faces of ladies from Rome to Moscow. These old perfumes were still being produced from the flowers in the garden, but only an elite few still had access to the originals. Many attempts had been made to imitate the scent known as Maiden's Blush, but Potters, Ltd was still the only source. Liam grimaced as he thought of the secret ingredient in Maiden's Blush, only someone as clever and subtle as the fourth Earl of Gryffham would have dreamed of combining such ingredients. The sap of the _Salix Tarentella_ acted as a fixative for the perfume and the nectar of the _Cibotium ovisana _provided a scent that could not be duplicated.

Liam nodded to his cousin who was guarding the gatehouse to the inner garden and walked through the archway. This garden held specimens even more rare than those in the outer garden. This inner garden was maintained by a mixed crew, and visitors were not welcome here. The plants were to delicate, fragile, or hostile to risk anyone except a specialist, here some of Liam's cousins learned the care, feeding, and control of each group of plants. This garden had well separated beds to prevent the more invasive and aggressive species from interfering with each other or passing humans. One corner of the garden was occupied by the small _Salix tarantella;_ the whomping willow was quiescent this morning, so Liam thought that it had probably not been fertilized in the last few weeks. The _Cibotium ovisana _was doing nicely as well, the sheep-like flowers leisurely moved at the ends of their stems, grazing on the topsoil. The aroma of the inner garden was intoxicating, but Liam ignored it as he approached the Abbey itself.

He needed to check in with the crew that maintained continuous communications with the far-flung branches of Potters, Ltd. Liam might be acting CEO, but that was a responsibility he had sought. However, he wanted nothing more than to be rid of the crushing load of being both CEO and _de facto_ head of the entire family. As he entered the communications center, he acknowledged the bared sword, Gryphon, that had occupied the seat of the head of the family since October 22, 1980. The presence of Gryphon unsheathed indicated that the family was a war. No one knew how Gryphon appeared in the chair, but it had been the custom for more generations than Liam could currently recall that when Gryphon appeared unsheathed, the family was at war until the Earl himself returned the sword to its sheath. Never before had the family been at war for so long without knowing the identity and nature of their enemy.

"Ah, Liam," called a cousin listening to the chatter from a bank of mirrors.

"Still enjoy being a glorified telephone operator?" teased Liam.

"Only on days like today. Heilende Durian was summoned to Black Manor. Something is happening there; we don't know what."

Liam nodded acknowledgment and then moved to another bank of mirrors. This was the group connected to every seer associated with the family. He pressed the sequence of runes on his display that requested the attention of any available seer. Within moments the main mirror in front of his was occupied by a middle-aged woman with her hair drawn severely back into a braid.

"Yes, Liam, you needed to know what moves?" she not-quite asked.

"Please, Athena."

"The knights are moving. The lever is not yet in place, but the fulcrum is prepared. The warriors are gathering and the war will soon be apparent to all." The woman blinked owlishly, "Liam, I hope that helped. The goddess is not happy with Britain at the moment."

"Britain in general or someone specific within Britain?"

"Yes," she paused, "Not exactly the whole of Britain, but certainly large portions of it." Her eyes grew distant, "The Society has met him. The Orangutans know of his existence, but they do not know who they have found. He was hidden well, but his sleeping heritage is beginning to wake." Again Athena blinked owlishly. "He will be returning soon," she comforted.

"Thanks, Athena. I wish he would return tomorrow."

"Not tomorrow, nor the next day, but within a month he will receive a portion of his inheritance and then he will return to the family. The game is in play and the armies move at the command of the emperor. The throne is occupied at last and the balance will be restored."

"Thanks again, Athena. I know the voice of the goddess when I hear her words. I will take comfort, and prepare for his coming."

"Always prepare, young man. I guard his mind, but he will need guidance from many sources."

Liam bowed deeply, "Yes, my Lady. I hear your commands and undertake to fulfill them."

"Not mine alone, others have interest here as well. They speak to their followers as I do mine." Athena's image disappeared from the mirror.

Liam bowed again to the empty mirror and turned to the others in the room. "You heard _her_?"

A chorus of agreement.

"Okay, people, _she_ has issued orders. We must prepare for both war and for the return of our lord."

A chime rang through the room, and Liam moved to a group of mirrors tucked into a corner. "Liam here."

"Cousin," greeted Madeleine Durian. "My husband needs to get in touch with TSUBO Takumi of Kyoto as soon as possible. He was being watched, but I could tell that this is urgent. I called my uncle, but he wanted confirmation from you."

"Madeleine, the earliest TSUBO-sensei would be able to arrive is tomorrow evening. The flight time alone is fourteen hours, even with the time difference, it is still six hours on the receiving end."

"It sounded urgent, Liam."

"I'll pass the message."

Liam picked up a telephone receiver on the desk, punched the button for an outbound call, and dialed an international number from memory. When the call connected, Liam spoke in fluent Japanese, "Takumi-sensei, please." A pause. "TSUBO-sensei, have you heard from your neice?" Another pause, "The flight, as usual has an available seat, merely call the airline and tell them you are asking for one of the Potters, Ltd seats. They will see to it that you are accommodated." A longer pause. "No, TSUBO-sensei, I do not know the nature of the emergency." A short pause. "Thank you, TSUBO-sensei. Good journey to you." He hung up the telephone and looked at the worried faces around him. "Okay, cousins. I know the family meeting is supposed to be this evening, but can you contact the heads of the various branches and see if we can postpone it until Sunday evening our time? I have a feeling that we will have vital information by then."

The various people in the room dropped their shoulders in despair, attempting to reschedule a meeting on such short notice would be a nightmare. The heads of the far-flung Potters, Ltd empire would need to rearrange their schedule significantly for this to happen.

"That will ripple into Monday," someone pointed out.

Liam sighed, "I know, but I would rather have the meeting with something concrete to report rather than merely a feeling and Athena's reassurance. Besides, it might reassure everyone if they know that we are postponing the meeting rather than calling a second only three days later."

"Yes, sir," came the emphatic chorus. Perhaps they were finally going to be able to locate either Sirius Black or Harrison Potter. The loss of Harrison Potter had been the first time that the heir of the Potter family had been completely out of communication since the twelfth century. Even then, the communication time had been measured in days. The inability of the family to find either despite almost a decade of searching had struck a blow to their confidence in their information gathering abilities, but the time without a ruling lord should soon be at an end.


	23. Chapter 23: To Hel and Back

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

Rituals and Consequences

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Twenty-Three: To Hel and Back

Friday, June 21, 1991

André followed Arcturus through the hallways of Black Manor to the Lord's bedchamber. As he walked, he wondered. "Arcturus, did Matilda pop from your bedchamber to the library?"

Matilda, hurrying beside the taller humans, replied, "No sir, Healer Durian. Tildy is walking into Master Arcturus's rooms and walking out again after she is seeing Master Sirius on the floor."

"Why did you not pop?" asked Arcturus. "It is a faster method of passing the message."

"Tildy is not thinking of that Master Arcturus. Speed is being important, but something is making Tildy leave before she is popping with the message."

Arcturus paused in the hallway just outside his door. He murmured something, too soft for André to hear, and the doorway glowed a soft yellow. "Don't do any magic, Healer Durian," he ordered.

"Not even diagnostics?"

"Nothing. Unless you can be absolutely certain that you are able to defend yourself from a rather irate and powerful protector."

"Yes, Lord Black. I promise to do no magic in the room."

"Very well, we may proceed."

~O~

André Durian had been prepared for a man in poor condition. The point of Azkaban was, after all, to punish the prisoners with neglect and harsh conditions until they either succumbed to their physical infirmities and became ill or to the depression and despair caused by the dementors and went insane. In either case, death soon followed.

Every prisoner from Azkaban of whom André had heard or read had exhibited the symptoms of melancholia to an extreme extent. It was as though they had been so long in the depths of fear, sorrow, and guilt, without an instant of positive emotion to leaven the darkness, that they became incapable of processing any emotion from the neutral or brighter side of life. They were, for months or years, unable to understand or feel happiness, love, or joy. This case might be different, however, because Sirius was innocent and Lord Black had proof. Having someone know, rather than merely believe, it Sirius' innocence might be of use once he was conscious, but the impact of that knowledge now, was minimal.

André had not been in a situation where he was unable to cast even the simplest of diagnostic spells in years, but after his required 'rotation' in a muggle hospital, he used his senses to augment the diagnostic spells. Thus, although André would have preferred to rely on a combination of magical and muggle methods, he was able to determine some things without resorting to magic. If the inability to perform magic in the vicinity of Sirius persisted, André might be required to use muggle blood tests and vital signs monitors.

André had not understood Arcturus' comment about Hel until he saw Sirius. André was expecting Sirius to be severely underweight, but André never expected the six-foot tall frame of scant muscle over bone sprawled across floor, nestled into the warmth of the buffalo fur that Arcturus used as a rug. André began cataloging at the boy's head. Hair, shaggy and unkempt, reaching to the middle of the man's back, too short for almost ten years of growth, so the boy's body had traded hair growth for more vital systems. The hair shafts themselves were dry and scaly, more evidence that every ounce of nutrition had been stripped from the boy's body. Even in sleep, the boy's face was sunken and the dark circles around his eyes extended to the ridge of the cheekbones. His lips were so pale as to be indistinguishable from the rest of the skin. His beard was sparse, dry, and scaly.

The boy was beyond painfully thin; the joints of his collarbones rose a good two inches beyond the hollow behind them. Every joint stood out in harsh relief; the paths of the tendons and muscles defined through skin without a trace of fat. Through the worn fabric, André could trace every rib and the hollows between them. Every ridge of muscle was visible, as though the man had sacrificed every gram of fat in his body, used it to its fullest, and then laid the skin back over the bare muscle. The worst part, and of the most concern to André, was the boy's temperature. The beds of the boy's fingernails were blue, and, even in the warmth of the room, his skin was cold.

André continued his examination, stopping only when he reached the boy's feet. The tops of the feet were as filthy as the rest of him, but the bottoms had been worn smooth and clean. He gestured to them and gave Arcturus a quizzical look. André motioned toward the door. Once they had crossed the threshold, he asked the question uppermost in his mind.

~O~

"What happened to his feet?"

"You would go into the presence of a goddess with shoes on?"

André shrugged the answer away and scowled, "You were being literal about being to Hel and back?"

Arcturus grimaced, "The boy is innocent. He has been judged by Hekate and Hel and found worthy. Your task is to help him recover his health, preferably before the end of August."

Andre scowled, "That boy should not be alive. He has been in Azkaban for almost ten years and you expect him to be healthy by August?" André looked at Arcturus to see if he might be joking. Even those prisoners who had been in the prison for only a few months took years to recover the physical, mental, and emotional health; yet Arcturus appeared serious. "August?" he asked again

"He needs to be in good enough condition to accompany his godson to Diagon Alley."

"Let someone else take the child. The boy will be lucky to be awake before the end of September, and you want him well enough to be in the crowds of Diagon Alley? My specialty is mind-healing, but he needs a healthy body before I can even begin."

"Do you have someone that you can recommend for the physical side?"

"That has dealt with this sort of condition recently? Not someone I know personally, but a Japanese healer named Tsubo has published papers on the effects of long-term imprisonment on the body. The paper was published in a muggle journal, but in Switzerland we healers look at both wizarding and muggle information."

"Is he discreet? Can I trust him with my grandson and heir?"

André's demeanor switched from concerned friend to professional healer, "Lord Black, I would trust him with the life of my children in an instant. He found my wife's father after he had been captured by Fu Manchu. Manchu bound his victims with their own magic and threw them into muggle prisons. Tsubo found several of those victims and was able to rehabilitate them. My wife's father is able to do magic after being bound for almost twenty years. He is also kind and loving."

"Call him," ordered Arcturus. "I need his exclusive services for at least the next three months. He must also take an oath not to reveal whatever or whomever he finds in my house."

"I'll warn you, Arcturus, Healer Tsubo is rather strange. My wife says he won't respond to calls from strangers. I will have to send a note to my wife who can then forward it to him."

"Agreed. Maximilian!"

"Master Arcturus be calling for Maxie?"

"I need you to deliver a note to Heilende Durian's wife. She will give you another note to Healer Tsubo. Deliver the notes and return, please."

"Yes, Master Black," replied Maximilian and popped away.

~O~

Maximilian returned an hour later as Arcturus and André were sitting down to dinner. "Healer Tsubo be saying he is arriving in Heathrow," he seemed uncertain of the name. Maximilian's eyes filled and he began to stroke his ears almost pulling them, "Maxie be not understanding all Healer Tsubo is saying. Bad Maxie?"

André laughed, "Good Maxie. Eccentric Healer Tsubo is taking muggle transport. It takes longer, but he doesn't trust any form of magical travel except apparation. It's too far for him to apparate from Kyoto, so he will come to London by airplane. I'll have to pick him up and give him the coordinates so that we can apparate from there to the borders of the wards."

"Why not take a portkey?" asked Arcturus.

André winced, "Have you ever taken a portkey to a warded location that the holder of the wards did not authorize?"

Arcturus stared, "I should think that the portkey would merely fail."

André shrugged, "Define 'fail.' Tsubo-sensei was taking a portkey home when it failed and he ended up with four broken bones."

Arcturus nodded acknowledgment, "Go pick him up then."


	24. Chapter 24: Scorned and Covered with Sca

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

Rituals and Consequences

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Twenty-Four: Scorned and Covered with Scars

Friday, June 21, 1991

"Do you believe in dreams?" asked Harrison.

"I believe that they can expose what the unconscious wants us to know or to think."

"I never remember my dreams, but last night..." Harrison trailed off uncertainly.

"Last night..." encouraged Marian.

"Last night I dreamed the safe dream, the dream of lying between two walls of fur. Do you remember when I was trying to find a picture of two particular dogs?"

Marian nodded encouragingly.

"Well, last night I dreamed that those dogs turned into humans. One was very tall with black hair and eyes; he was always laughing. The other was shorter I think, but with sandy hair and the kindest eyes I have ever seen. I can't understand why the dogs turned into people."

"In dreams, such things can happen. Did you recognize the people?"

"Maybe. The dark man, almost certainly, but I have no clue from where. It must be from before the Dursleys. But I was only fifteen months old! How could I remember from that far back?"

"Harrison," soothed Marian, "what about the other man?"

"I am pretty sure that I saw him for the first time in my dream. He looked," a long pause, "kind."

"Was there anything else?"

"How could a man turn into a wolf or a dog? The dream seemed so real. I could almost hear the rearrangement of bones."

"They can't, Harrison. Only in dreams can humans turn into animals or animals turn into humans."

Harrison nodded politely, knowing that Marian would never understand. In his world, dreams had the power to harm. He still remembered his request to not remember his dreams, he wondered why he remembered this one. In Marian's world a human could talk to a snake, but the snake could not reply. The world was far larger than she or her friends knew, but Harrison was not going to be the one who told them. They were Orangutans, they should know better.

~O~

Wednesday, October 15, 1986

Harrison woke up, as usual, five minutes before Petunia came to unlock the cupboard. He had not slept well, but, also as usual, could remember that he had dreamed just not what he had dreamed. His sensation of dread deepened as he made breakfast for the Dursleys.

Dudley made his usual raucous way down the stairs and into the kitchen demanding a biscuit before breakfast. He was indulged, and a plate of food was set in front of him as he finished the biscuit. Petunia nodded curtly as she and Vernon were served and told Harrison to leave.

Harrison retreated to his cupboard to change into his school uniform and escape punishment from Vernon and Petunia. Harrison appeared, already dressed, in the door to the breakfast room, and asked to leave early for school. Harrison left the house about fifteen minutes earlier than usual with no evidence of what was causing the unease. As he walked along the road that led to the shortcut he used to get to school, he listened to the wind rustling in the trees, and shivered. Not from cold, but the sense of something deadly approaching.

A berry vine still holding a few dried out berries would start his breakfast. A squirrel had left a cache of nuts in the hollow of one of the trees, probably temporarily holding them until a more permanent location was found. Harrison took eight of the walnuts and four cobnuts to eat once he reached school. He would have to wait until he got to school to crack the nuts, but the berries satisfied the gnawing in his stomach. Unfortunately the food did not soothe the dread.

When Harrison arrived at school, Marian was just parking her car and she waited for him to get to the door before unlocking it and the two entered together.

"Harrison, George is coming today. He wants to know how you are doing on that manuscript he found for you."

"Miss Marian, I think that there is something odd about that manuscript. If I could see the original, perhaps I could figure out what is so odd, but..." he trailed off. "That's it!" he exclaimed jubilantly, "Miss Marian! That's it."

"What is it, Harrison?"

"That feeling of dread! It's because of the dream! The manuscript is talking about a dream!"

Marian, bemused, asked, "What dream?"

"I don't know, Miss Marian. Are you going out to dinner tonight?"

"I had planned to go up to London with Daniel; he's a paramedic."

Harrison shivered, "Please, don't go, Miss Marian. It's dangerous."

"Daniel? He's a nice man, Harrison, you'd like him."

"It's not Daniel, Miss Marian. It's dangerous. Please, don't go tonight."

"Are you jealous, Harrison?"

Harrison's face paled as he realized that his words were not expressing his fear adequately. "Miss Marian, if you go out to dinner tonight... Could you, please, get home before nightfall?"

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of George.

~O~

Class was torturous for Harrison. He had restrained himself while George was in the library, talking only about the manuscript and the alternate meaning that emerged as soon as the reader understood it was the record of a dream. Harrison was puzzled, it had seemed so obvious this morning that the manuscript was talking about dreams, but George insisted that the manuscript was written by the court magician of Thutmose III. Harrison recognized Seshat's symbol followed by that of Maat, and the idea that this was a record of a dream made the entire manuscript intelligible.

Harrison ignored the teacher droning on about the sounds 'scr,' 'str,' and 'spr;' he was much more interested in the implications of his attempt at deciphering the manuscript.

_ Call Seshat and Thoth unseen seen. Maat balance negation dream empty/broken. Isis call Maat Osiris death. Thoth life-force knowledge brings. Supplicant call Seshat Maat balance dream full/whole. Life full/whole call balance negation Horus dream. Isis Seshat unseen conquer lion snake kite._

"Harrison!"

Harrison jerked at the sound of his teacher calling his name, "Yes, ma'am?"

"Read the next sentence, please."

"What page, ma'am?"

Over the giggles of his classmates, the teacher stated, "On page five, the same page we have been reading for the past fifteen minutes. Now read line seven."

"Yes, ma'am. The strangled scream rang out in the darkness, and Tom sprang to see what was the matter."

"Very good, Harrison, now pay attention in class, please."

"Yes, ma'am," responded Harrison dutifully, knowing full well that he was unable to do so. It was not that she was a bad teacher, she had just been trained to expect trouble from him, and, like most of the teachers at St Grogory's she was unwilling to revise her opinion. Harrison tried his best to pay attention, but it so difficult to concentrate on adverbs and adjectives when he was trying to put the puzzle of the manuscript together. He was more interested in determining why the manuscript was so clear to him but so puzzling to George than paying attention to an English class that covered information which he had grasped more than three years ago. All one had to do was consider a different meaning to a few words to make the manuscript intelligible but George's eyes had glazed over every time Harrison tried to explain and said "the changes don't work, they don't make sense." Harrison couldn't understand why George's curiosity did not come into play. Nonetheless, the niggling sensation of unease increased every time he thought about Miss Marian on her date in London that night.

~O~

Through mathematics class, "the mysteries of division" held no mystery for Harrison, he was trying to decipher why he felt so uneasy about Miss Marian going to London. He thought about Miss Marian going out in Little Whinging, and had no unease. He thought about her going out with Daniel and staying in Little Whinging; still no unease. He thought about Miss Marian traveling to London on her own, and his anxiety spiked. Considering her on a date with Daniel caused no increase in unease. Thinking about Miss Marian traveling to London on Friday evening caused no more uneasiness than her staying in Little Whinging. His thought experiment complete, Harrison knew what he had to do. He had to warn Miss Marian not to go to London tonight. Another evening would be fine, just not tonight.

Harrison's thoughts were interrupted by the beginning of the Physical Education part of the day. Although Harrison was fast and strong for his size, there was only so much speed and strength a child could develop at two inches short of three feet. The teacher had informed the class that they were to jump up and grab the pull-up bar and lift themselves as many times as they could past five for a passing grade. Harrison looked at the bar and groaned internally. He could reach the bar, after all there was one that was only forty inches off the floor, but he knew that Dudley would be unlikely to be able to pull himself up even once. If Harrison did better than Dudley, even in something as trivial as doing pull ups, Vernon would punish him for trying to cheat to make himself look better than Dudley. Harrison watched in dismay as Dudley failed to pull himself up even once, knowing that he too would be restricted to failing the test.

When school ended, Harrison ran to the library, he knew his afternoon session with the Orangutans had been canceled. He was praying that he got there in time to talk to Miss Marian again about returning before dark. It was dangerous to be out after dark tonight near London.


	25. Chapter 25: Reach the Unreachable Star

Notice: Due to real life, from now on updates will be on Saturday!

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

Rituals and Consequences

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Twenty-Five: Reach the Unreachable Star

Friday, June 21, 1991

"Miss Marian? How do you tell the difference between a dream and a memory?"

"You never ask simple questions, do you, Harrison. Honestly, I don't really know."

"I remember the safe dream, but I think it's actually a memory. Is it possible that I've seen a man turn into a dog?"

"Only with special effects in movies, Harrison."

"But I've never seen a movie except in class. The only movies I've seen were documentaries."

"I don't know, Harrison. I just don't know."

Harrison returned to his book. Jung's _Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious_ was fascinating reading, but it did not explain some of his memories or most of his dreams. As he grew older, Harrison realized that he had begun to remember more of some of his dreams than just the emotion. Such had been the case on that Wednesday evening when he was six.

~O~

Wednesday, October 15, 1986

Harrison became frantic when he could not find Miss Marian or her date. She mustn't go to London tonight. He wasn't sure why, but he had a feeling of terror every time he considered her being out after dark. As he rushed through the main doors, looking for Miss Marian and her date, he ran headlong into a man, just entering the school.

"Slow down, child. I know school is over for the day, but you needn't celebrate by running me down."

Harrison was too worried to appreciate the humor of an almost six foot man being run over by a six-year-old boy less than three feet tall. "Pardon me, sir," he apologized, "I'm looking for someone. I need to talk to her before she leaves."

"Ah, have a girlfriend already?"

"No, sir. She's in danger. I have to tell her not to go to London tonight."

The man knelt down so that he was at eye level with Harrison. "Why is it dangerous for her to go to London?"

"I don't know, sir. It's okay if she goes as long as she is home by dark." Harrison's eyes filled with tears as he swayed from foot to foot in distress. "I don't want to lose her. It's dangerous to go to London tonight! It is! I don't know why. It just is!"

"Calm down, son. Who are you looking for?"

"Miss Marian. She's the librarian. Sir, have you seen her? I need to convince her not to go to London tonight."

The man looked at Harrison, patted him on the shoulder, then addressed the person behind Harrison. "Do you know what's going on, Marian?"

"No, Daniel, Harrison couldn't tell me either. He just insisted that it was dangerous to go to London this evening."

Harrison spun around at the sound of her voice. "Miss Marian! I was afraid you'd already left. Please, don't go to London tonight!"

"It's all right, Harrison. We're not going to London. I'm going to cook for Daniel tonight."

Harrison slumped, then with a jolt moved two feet further from Daniel. He huddled near Marian and looked at Daniel penitently, "I'm sorry for running into you, sir. I'm clumsy sometimes."

Daniel laughed gently, "It's fine, Harrison. There was no harm done."

Harrison glanced at Marian, then returned his attention to Daniel. "Thank you for your kindness, sir. Please take care of Miss Marian this evening." He scurried away before Daniel could say anything more.

~O~

Marian and Daniel walked to their cars in the school car park. As they walked, Daniel commented, "So that was the infamous Harrison Potter. I expected someone... taller. Is he always like that?"

"He's a sweet boy, Daniel; and no, I've never seen him act like this. I think it's a good sign that he worries about me."

"A good sign? Marian, that boy ran into me at full speed. He would have been hurt if he hadn't somehow managed to catch himself. Has he ever done something like this before? I mean begging you not to go out with me."

"Never," replied Marian. "There's something going on today. He has been worried since early this morning about me going into London tonight."

"Well, what are you making for dinner," Daniel changed the subject as they arrived at their cars.

"Reheating whatever is left over from the weekend," said Marian, and led the way to her flat.

~O~

After a dinner that did not taste like it was left over from anything, unless it was left on the table before a feast, Daniel and Marian moved to the library and settled in.

Daniel sipped a mug of tea, "Are you coming up to my place on Friday?"

"I should be able to. The Society doesn't meet until Saturday evening, and we're meeting in London this time."

Daniel had just set down the teacup and was getting up to leave when it hit. The first warning was an whistling from the fireplace which increased to a low pitched moan. The moan increased in intensity until it filled the room.

Marian turned on the television and was rewarded with the sight of the usual late evening dramas. While she switched channels, the moan increased in intensity again and rose in pitch.

A different drama played out on the screen while Daniel went to the front window and looked out over the front garden. "Marian, don't bother. I recognize a gale when I see one." He paused for a moment, glanced at the clock and said, "We would have been trying to drive home in this." His comment was punctuated by a sudden failure of the lights.

"Harrison didn't want me on the road tonight."

"I know," said Daniel. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette lighter which he flicked on long enough to get to the dining room door. Another flick and the steady burn of the candles that had decorated the dinner table illuminated that room. The candle glow came closer as he re-entered the library, only to find Marian curled up in a cozy reading chair with an afghan wrapped around her.

Her lap was occupied by a large, leather-bound volume. Her hand stroked the cover repeatedly, caressing the embossed leather. She looked up at Daniel. "I got this book when I was fifteen. My father got it for Christmas. It took me a week to read it all the way through. Harrison read this at three years old; it took him less than an hour. Daniel, how am I going to keep up? He's studying Egyptian heiroglyphs and Latin. He's fluent in French and German already, and I think he's studying calculus. He's six! Why is he this way? He seems so old at times, as though he has seen more of the world than the rest of us. I know his parents died, but would that make so much difference?"

Daniel held her hand comfortingly, knowing that, despite her status as a librarian, Marian was a teacher who loved to see the spark of knowledge and its attendant curiosity appear in children. For the first time in his life, Daniel thought about a woman he was dating as a prospective mother rather than merely as a prospective wife.

Despite knowing that the storm outside would cause chaos both locally and in London, Daniel refused to worry about his job as a paramedic. Tomorrow during his shift would be early enough to worry about the damage caused by the howling wind he could hear outside Marian's house. If he went out tonight, he would be more likely to be a victim of the storm rather than rescuing someone else. He sent a quick prayer for anyone unlucky enough to be out in the storm and settled in to wait out the wind.


	26. Chapter 26: Knight Meetings

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

Rituals and Consequences

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Twenty-Six: Knight Meetings

Friday, June 21, 1991

Remus cleaned up the dishes from dinner. A long day at the zoo, followed by several hours of translation, and he was ready to collapse. However, he was scheduled to meet Lord Arcturus Black at Gringotts in thirty minutes, as soon as the sun finally crossed the horizon. The discretion of the goblins had proven vital to his continued existence in the muggle world. They were meticulous in delivering his wolfsbane potion each month and the _Daily Prophet_ each morning, but the true value was in the reports they kept of account activity and their willingness to function as his agents to make the wizarding world assume that he had been living somewhere on the border between France and Spain since shortly after the death of the Potters. Even Dumbledore believed the ruse, or at least that was the case when his letters arrived. The reason the goblins were willing to deceive the wizarding world still made him chuckle.

~O~

Wednesday, November 1, 1978

Remus ducked into Gringotts, escaping the press of wizards enjoying the unusually warm day for late autumn. He needed a few galleons from his vault to purchase additional parchment and ink for his reproductions of some of the rarer books that he was translating for Pickering & Chatto. As he approached Knifeclaw, the goblin scowled at him.

"I need fifty galleons from my account, fierce Knifeclaw," Remus told the scowling goblin.

"Are you exchanging muggle funds?" snarled Knifeclaw.

"Not today, dread Knifeclaw. I will be adding a few thousand pounds to my account after I have paid taxes."

Knifeclaw scowled more ferociously, "If you dealt with Gringotts rather than that muggle bank, you would not need to pay taxes."

"But, fierce Knifeclaw, if I pay muggle taxes on my earnings from the muggle world, it then becomes untraceable. That means I have an established identity in both muggle and magical worlds."

"You're a wizard," stated Knifeclaw, as though that were sufficient reason not to deal with muggle banks.

"I am," acknowledged Remus, "but I have made almost £5 in profits from my investments over the last month."

"How much did you invest?"

"About £500."

"One percent return in a month? Are such returns common?" Knifeclaw's jaw dropped.

"Not in the banking world, but, dread Knifeclaw, the muggles have something called a stock exchange. I learned about it from Lily's parents."

"Can goblins invest?"

"Fierce Knifeclaw, only funds that originate in the muggle world can be invested, otherwise the muggles get suspicious. Obliviating works well on individuals, but they have machines that record monetary transactions and paper copies are kept. You can obliviate a person, paper and machines cannot be dealt with that in way."

Knifeclaw grimaced and handed over the fifty galleons. Then said, "Please, wait in the first room on the left, we must discuss these 'investments' further."

Remus smiled, marked three points on his personal scoreboard with the goblin, and walked down the hall to the first door. At his approach, the door swung open to reveal an office with an elderly goblin seated behind the desk, and several comfortable chairs arrayed in a semi-circle. He entered and sat down in one of the chairs. Not knowing how long it would take Knifeclaw to come, he pulled out his copy of _The Financial Times _from a pocket in his robes_. _From another pocket, he extracted a ballpoint pen and a stenographer's pad. Opening the pad, he looked at the symbols he had recorded from his master list at home. He had not really thought that he would tell Knifeclaw about his investments, but he had gotten in the habit of taking the paper with him whenever he reentered the wizarding world. It provided a link to his existence in the muggle world and a place where he was not recognized as a werewolf.

Mr Evans had suggested that he begin investing after his first paycheck arrived from Colonel Pickering. After the rent had been paid for three months on the flat, Mr Evans had asked Remus about his plans for the future, "I know that you are still young, just barely graduated from school, but you should have funds available for future use."

When Remus had agreed that it would be nice not to have to worry about money as his father had, Mr Evans volunteered to teach him how to invest in stocks. Having a wizard pay attention to his muggle expertise flattered Mr Evans. Remus had been bemused by the report at the end of the month. It seemed that his instincts had proved better than average. Looking at the list of abbreviations for stocks, Remus would pick the two or three that he liked. Not the company, just their symbol. His first investments had the stock symbols RMS and LPN, and even though he didn't really know what the companies did or how they operated, they were doing well. He had decided, though, that he should try to learn more about stocks and what the companies he had invested in did. Remus had managed to choose RMS during its eye-pee-oh. That stock was doing better than LPN which had been in business for longer.

After waiting in the office for an hour, Remus closed the _Financial Times _and set it aside. He had just started to get up when Knifeclaw hurried in the door. "I apologize, Mr Lupin, my supervisor is interested in this muggle 'stock market' of which you spoke. He would like to speak with you."

"Of course, fierce Knifeclaw."

~O~

Friday, June 21, 1991

The result of that conversation had been Remus turning over all of his earnings from Pickering & Chatto as seed money for Knifeclaw to manage. In return, Remus received his monthly ration of Wolfsbane, an alibi that would stand up to anything except a personal visit to the isolated Chateau Montcalm in the Pyrenees Mountains, and a bonus of one percent of the profits made from the investments that used his account as their toehold in the muggle world.

After the first year, the goblins were thrilled at the return on their investments, but had wanted to do more. After a thorough analysis of the technology (have Remus throw spells at it and see if it breaks), the goblins installed a muggle telegraph and stock tickertape machine in the depths of Gringotts. The goblins were then able to dictate their own stock picks in real time. As a result, the goblins made more money, and Remus became comfortably wealthy in the wizarding world, although everyone thought he was in France.

Remus cast a quick glance at the clock and turned on his heel to apparate to Gringotts. When he arrived, he looked around for Knifeclaw but the goblin was not around. On stepping out of the tickertape machine room, Remus was greeted by Knifeclaw.

"Where have you been, Lupin?" the goblin growled.

"Home, translating. I was at the zoo before that, helping with the wolves."

"A werewolf playing with wolves. Isn't that a little ridiculous?"

"It pays well, Knifeclaw, and it allows me access to the muggle world with impunity. No one expects much from a part-time zookeeper after all."

"True. Well, Lord Black had to cancel. It seems he had a visitor sometime this morning."

Remus tilted his head in silent question.

"He said to apologize to you, but he would be in touch as soon as his guest woke up. Something about a mob and a goat."

"Mob?" asked Lupin. "I can understand the goat."

"No idea, Lupin, no idea," chuckled Knifeclaw, "but it bodes ill for someone."


	27. Chapter 27: A Buffoonery Is No Joke

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

Rituals and Consequences

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Twenty-Seven: A Buffoonery Is No Joke

Friday, June 21, 1991

The chatter of friends meeting each other for the first time in months and the social dance of introductions to new friends filled the hall as a man stood and raising his water glass and a knife, tapped for attention. The chime rang through the reception hall, and the clamor subsided obediently. "The eleventh annual meeting of the London Chapter of the Society of Orangutans is now called to order! We have an important announcement this evening and welcome all suggestions for a solution. Marian?"

Marian stood up from her seat at the main table and picked up the green folder that she carried to all Orangutan meetings. "As you all know, our search for those who would benefit from the Orangutan philosophy has been ongoing. At last report, this summer GRASP will host some three hundred youths from age five to eighteen. This will be the tenth year of the camp, but one child has always been unable to go. Harrison came to my attention seven years ago, and I have been privileged to help guide him on his way to becoming to an intelligent and analytical young man. However, he graduates from St. Grogory's in another month and I will lose everyday contact with him after the summer. He would like to attend GRASP camp with our other Chimps, and he has been doing well..."

"Try brilliantly!" called one of those assisting in the project.

"Very well," Marian nodded, "brilliantly. However, the problem remains that I will not be able to maintain my cover as a parent of one of Harrison's school friends as I will be moving to London to be with my husband. Does anyone have a connection at Stonewall High School?"

A chorus of negative replies filled the room. An elderly man, one of Harrison's tutors, spoke up, "I know that Harrison is far more advanced than the high school curriculum will cover. Why are we discussing his high school when we should be speaking of university?"

Marian acknowledged the man, "Sir John, I know that Harrison has far outstripped any curriculum at the primary or secondary levels. However, we must deal with reality, he is eleven, he will be under the guardianship of his aunt and uncle for at least another five years. Despite the changes in the Children's Act (yes, Sir John, Harrison is as aware of the statute as you are), I am unable to report anything to the authorities. If Harrison had been to a physician or had an encounter with a police officer, it might be different, but I am unable to do anything. I have tried to get his teachers and the headmistress to report the Dursleys for child abuse, but they shrug it off as a hormone imbalance he inherited from his 'no-good' father."

Sir John rose from his chair and stood his full six feet of lean frame, "Ms Cooper, I know you have done your best for the past seven years, but Harrison must be challenged. He learns so quickly that it is almost scary. He devours knowledge like a hungry man does a well-cooked meal. What can we do to support him? My fellow Orangutans, Harrison has been our greatest challenge for the past seven years, even the daughter of my dentist is not as ferocious in her pursuit of knowledge. And she has been attending GRASP since she was five. She will be attending a special school this fall, but would be able to start at university in another year if she were not so eager to study this new field," Sir John sat down to an outburst of applause.

Marian's voice cut through the clamor. "Sir John, you have many years of experience with law; is there a way for Harrison to be removed from his aunt and uncle?"

Sir John glanced down at his hands and nodded assent to Marian's point. They really could do nothing without the consent of Harrison's guardians. But how to get that consent? The boy was mature for his age, that was true, but still he was only eleven. Not only was the boy's age against him, the boy knew the law as well as he did when it came to cases involving children being removed from their guardians. If Ms Cooper's reports were true, and Sir John had to acknowledge that they tended to be accurate, the boy's sole supporter at school or at home was Marian.

~O~

"Sir John?" asked a voice next to him. "You have a telephone call."

"Can it wait?" he asked the waiter.

"It's a Liam Potter," replied the waiter.

"It cannot," sighed Sir John. "What has that boy done now?" Three steps out of the hall; before he reached the telephone kiosk, he stopped. At one of the telephones stood Liam Potter. "What's wrong, Liam?"

"How is Henry?"

"Skip the formalities, Liam. What's wrong? I have handled sufficient legal work for Potters, Ltd to know that expression."

Liam grimaced and gestured to a small group of seats cut off from the rest of the restaurant. "It concerns Lord Potter."

Sir John's expression brightened, "You have found him at last?"

Liam grimaced, "I wish. I have been told that someone in your Society has been in contact with him."

Sir John's face fell, "Liam, have you been listening to those scam artists who profess to be seers?"

Liam's lips lifted in an inarticulate snarl. "Sir John, please do not go there again. And, yes, I do listen to those who have connections. I also listen to rumors and crosscheck them. You know about the way my family works. I have connections all over the globe, but not a single whisper of the location of Harrison Potter until last night. Even today, all I know is that the boy's godfather may have resurfaced. You wrote the wills for James and Lily, who was their primary guardian?"

"Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, several other names I don't recall at the moment, and a specific exclusion of Petunia Dursley. I admit I thought it rather odd that she would be excluded from the list."

"Have you met the woman or her husband? If you had, you would not ask why Lily Potter would refuse to let her sister Petunia near any child. All that aside, have you or any of the Orangutans had any contact with a Harrison Potter?"

"Not that I know of," Sir John's voice trailed off. "Dursleys, you said? Petunia's name is Dursley?"

Liam nodded, sensing that his search might end soon.

"Marian Cooper has a chimp under her protection; she has called him Harrison from the beginning. She seems to be the only local support for the child. She is out in Surrey you see and not many of our members live out that way. This evening she mentioned an aunt and uncle named Dursley. It might be a coincidence, but I really don't know if her Harrison is your Harrison. She has never revealed his last name, and we have only met him at school. Let me take you to meet her now."

Liam nodded and the pair re-entered the meeting hall.


	28. Chapter 28: Bufoonery on Parade

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

Rituals and Consequences

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Bufoonery on Parade

Friday, June 21, 1991

Marian was no longer at the main table, and Sir John began approaching the various groups that had spontaneously sprung up to discuss matters of mutual interest. Two tables had moved their tables and rearranged the chairs in a large circle. The were debating the eruption of Mount Pinatubo and its possible connection to the mudslides in Antofagasta, Chile. About half the group argued that there was a connection, while the other was discussing the effects of El Niño on rain patterns as the primary cause for the disaster. Sir John effortlessly inserted himself into the conversation for a moment before asking if any of the group had noticed where Marian had gone.

"Try the side rooms. The folklore group gets quite loud sometimes and by common consent they almost never meet in the main hall with the rest of us."

Sir John nodded. "I know what you mean, I accidentally stepped on some toes when I asked if anyone knew of the origin of the legend of vegetable sheep."

Liam smiled to himself, _Cibotium ovisana_ had so successfully been cultivated as a legend that only a few were aware that _Cibotium barometz_ was the source of a medicinal rhizome but not the vegetable lamb of legend. He had cultivated a _Cibotium ovisana_ himself when he was young as part of his training. Sir John could not have chosen a better topic to amuse a Potter who had spent summers working in the gardens at Gryffham Abbey.

Sir John excused himself from the group and began opening the doors of the smaller rooms off of the main hall. Each of these smaller rooms had a closed door. As soon as Sir John cracked opened the first, Liam understood why the doors were closed and why Sir John only cracked the door. Rather than the lively but cordial conversations that were taking place in the main hall, this room contained an individual ranting about the improbability of connecting the tunnels of the boring machines currently digging the tunnel under the English Channel to connect Calais to Dover. Sir John gently closed the door and smiled ruefully at Liam, "Engineers and surveyors may argue all they please at their accuracy of their measurements, but some will not believe that the project is possible until it is complete."

They moved on to the next door. Sir John did not even open the door as a barrage of vitriol about idiots and expecting the impossible of Labor sounded faintly through the door. The next door was cracked open slightly and Sir John paused to listen to a discussion of the SETI project and moved on. The next door was firmly closed, and nothing could be heard from the other side.

Sir John opened the door in time to hear Marian declare, "If you take it as given that such a thing as magic exists, then the development of a culture dependent upon said magic would be a natural occurrence. The legends of the Sidhe are nothing more nor less than remnants of a memory of that culture."

"But, Marian," argued another voice, "how would you test for magic? All of your efforts to locate a genuine occurrence of magic have failed. Fairy tales, including the tales of the Sidhe, are mere wishful thinking."

"How can you say that, Marcus? I have been studying legends now for more than ten years. The same themes show up again and again, not only do they show up, but their resolution is almost identical. Magic is a force like any other. The trick is to figure out a way of measuring and utilizing that force."

"Marian, Marcus, you are going too far afield. We all know that your opinions of the existence or prior existence of magic are diametrically opposed, but we are discussing the Sidhe today."

"Yes, George," the two said in unison as Sir John opened the door completely.

"Ms Cooper, if you have a moment, a gentleman here would like to ask you a few questions about your chimp, Harrison."

Marian's eyes grew larger at the sight of a man who seemed so familiar and yet she had never seen before in her life. She gracefully rose from her seat, nodded to her friends, and walked toward the door and the waiting gentlemen. "I am at your disposal, Sir John."

~O~

Three doors later and Sir John gave up looking for a room in which to have the discussion. He turned to Liam and shrugged, "Tell her your story, Liam."

Liam began, "Ms Cooper, my name is Liam Potter of Potters, Ltd. I have spent the past ten years looking for the Earl of Gryffham. He disappeared almost immediately after the death of his parents when he was fifteen months old. He would be ten now, turning eleven on the last day of July."

Marian looked suspicious, "Who, precisely, are you looking for?"

Liam realized his error, "My apologies. Lord Gryffham's given name is Harrison James Potter; his parents were James Charlus Potter and Lily Amaryllis Evans. He was born on the thirty-first of July 1980 and became Baron Glyssing on May 4, 1981. He inherited the title of Earl of Gryffham on October 31, 1981 on the death of his father."

Marian's eyes narrowed, "You have proof of who you say you are? You have a legal right to take the child?"

Liam winced, "Unfortunately ma'am, I was not appointed as the child's guardian in the case of his parents' deaths. I was appointed seneschal of the estate by Lord Charlus Potter, Harrison's grandfather, and Lord James never rescinded that order. The child's guardians, so far as I know, are Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Frank and Alice Longbottom."

"What of Petunia Dursley?"

"So far as I know, she was specifically excluded from the guardianship. Are you telling me that _she_ has had control of the child?" Liam's relaxed stance turned stiff with rage.

"He started his nursery year in September 1983, I met him in November of that year. Can you prove that the Dursleys do not have legal guardianship of the boy?"

Liam visibly released the tension in his muscles and turned to Sir John, "How long would that take?"

"The will was sealed."

The tension returned and Liam's face turned pale. Long seconds passed before his working mouth emitted any coherent words. "Sealed? Are you trying to tell me that I now know where my Lord is and I cannot remove him from danger? Sir John, get that will unsealed! I want Lord Harrison away from Petunia Dursley and that _husband_ of hers, Vernon, before the end of the week. I am sure that they are more than capable of raising a _normal, average _child, but no Potter could ever be considered average or _normal,_" Liam spat out the word as though it were poisonous.

"Liam, I can do nothing. I am retired, remember?"

Liam's face resumed its normal color as he glared coldly at the solicitor, "Who can and how long will it take?"

"Producing the will requires an active solicitor. The paperwork would require at least a month to push through the system. Ms Cooper can watch over from a distance for that long."

"A month!" Liam's rage flared up and his hair fairly bristled.

"Liam, calm down. That is as fast as I can legally get it pushed through the courts. Normally it would take almost a year."

Liam's rage turned bitterly cold, "Sir John, do it."

Sir John flinched, "Liam, you have my word."

Liam turned to Marian, "Ms Cooper, you must watch over Harrison for me. I wish to be informed of anything that occurs between now and when Sir John is able to remove him from the Dursley's _tender_ care."


	29. Chapter 29: The Morning After

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

Rituals and Consequences

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Morning After

Saturday, June 22, 1991

Liam's slumber was broken by the ringing of a telephone. He had collapsed in the suite maintained by Potters, Ltd for visiting executives near dawn, and was still exhausted. A bleary glance at the clock informed him that he had managed three hours of sleep. He fumbled a bit, but picked up the receiver. "Hello?" he asked sleepily.

"Liam? Is that you? You sound like you're half asleep," said the chirpy voice of his sister.

"Greta, it's seven in the morning, I got to bed around four." Liam groaned as he stretched, "What do you need?"

"I'm passing along some information, Liam."

"Greta, did I mention three hours of sleep?"

"Raoul will be on the same flight as Warato Tsubo from Amsterdam to Heathrow. Word came from the Abbey, David says that Athena says to relax and enjoy the day."

Liam groaned again. "And you needed to call me, because..." he trailed off.

"Liam, Athena was not the only one to contact the Abbey. David has had confirming reports from at least six other sources. Liam, do we know someone at the London Zoo?"

"Several? Why?"

"Savi and Tavi, the twins from Rome, reported that the Serpent Lord has awakened at last."

"Serpent Lord? Voldemort?"

"No. At least they didn't seem worried. They seemed happy to bring the news."

"How old are the twins now?"

"A quite precocious seven. It is early for the gift to awaken, but they were dedicated to Hekate as their father wished and got a double dose of their mother's mischief as well."

"Greta, you are forgiven for waking me, but I need more sleep. Call me at noon?"

"Yes, Liam. Sleep well."

Liam hung up the telephone and curled up in the bed.

~O~

It seemed that he had barely closed his eyes when he heard a pair of voices in the hall. He wondered why the sound carried so clearly through the closed door of the suite then realized that the voices were of the hotel staff in the hallway of the suite.

"I heard that the CEO of Potters, Ltd is staying in the suite over the weekend. Isn't he single?"

"Single and rich as Croesus. I understand that Potters, Ltd is one of the largest privately held firms in the world."

_Rich as Croesus,_ Liam mused blearily, _at least she knows her mythology. Now if only she would go away and let me sleep._

Fortunately for his sleep-deprived mind, the two women's voices faded away as they walked toward the opposite end of the suite, and Liam slipped back into slumber. His relief was short-lived, however as he was awakened by a shriek.

Not trusting his reflexes after so long behind a desk and so short a night, Liam rolled out of bed away from the shriek and into a pair of legs, eliciting a second cry. Wincing, Liam looked up from his position on the floor and realized that he had just knocked one of the maids off her feet.

The young woman he had just bowled over flailed fruitlessly trying to get away from the man who was now atop her feet.

Liam's, "Pardon me, ma'am," as he got to his feet was cut short by an instinctive dodge of the Bible from the opposite side of the bed.

"Who are you?" demanded the woman who now had the crystal ashtray from the nightstand ready to throw at him.

"Liam Potter, and I suggest that you return that to the nightstand unless you wish to pay for replacing it. I reserved the suite for this weekend."

"The management wasn't expecting you until this evening," stated the woman on the floor, now out of arm's reach.

"I had a change of plans."

"Yes, sir. Do you wish us to change the sheets?"

Liam sighed, "Please, just go away and let me get some sleep." He glanced at the clock beside the bed and groaned, "You can freshen the suite while I am out this afternoon."

"Yes, sir," they said in unison and fled.

Liam sighed and crawled back into bed, hoping for at least another two hours of sleep.

~O~

It seemed as though Liam had barely closed his eyes when the telephone rang. An aggravated arm reached out from beneath the covers to retrieve the receiver. "Hello?"

"Your noon wake-up call, Liam."

Liam groaned, hung up the telephone and extracted himself from the nest he had made in the covers. A shower and change later and he felt more ready to face the day. A call to the office summoned a car and driver for the afternoon.

~O~

Liam stopped at the concierge on his way out of the hotel to turn in his key for the afternoon. "Are there any messages for me?"

"No sir, Mr Potter. No messages or packages."

"Thank you. Tell the housekeeping staff that they may refresh my suite. Please, ensure that the housekeeping staff does not come in tomorrow morning until at least noon. They arrived this morning at a little after nine."

"My apologies, sir. I will communicate your wishes to the head of housekeeping immediately."

Liam nodded and turned to the doors that led to the porte-cochere where a black limousine waited for his arrival. As Liam left the hotel, a valet opened the back door of the limousine and wished him a good afternoon.

_Better than the morning I hope,_ Liam grumbled but courteously said nothing to the valet except, "Thank you."

~O~

"Where to, sir?" asked the driver.

"The office."

"Meeting with vendors, sir?"

"No, magical member of the family."

"Word about our lord?" asked the driver hopefully.

"I know that it concerns Lord Black, but I don't know if our lord has reappeared."

"Yes, sir. What time is the meeting?"

"Two o'clock; we need to be at Heathrow by four."

"Yes, sir. Hopefully he brings good news. Until then?"

"Would you please take the long way to the office? I need some more sleep."

"Yes, sir," said the driver and closed the communicating window.

Liam leaned back into the cushions and sighed. He had always slept better when he knew there was a member of the family on guard. His eyes slid shut as he recited the Potter family motto, "_Familia primum, regem secundus, honora semper. _Family first, king second, honor always." It had become his mantra that allowed him to survive the past ten years.

As Liam relaxed into the cushions, his attention was caught by the flash of gold and blue that formed the signet on his ring. It was the ring of the seneschal, worn as a sign that the bearer had the confidence of the kennar. Liam murmured as he slipped into sleep, "Seshat, guard and protect the child. Thoth, guide his steps and quicken his feet. Return him to us, Lord and Lady. Let our lord, our kennar, our Harrison, return."


	30. Chapter 30: Your Mission, If You Choose

Disclaimer: We do not own the Harry Potter characters or world, but the over-active imaginations that produced this we will claim.

Rituals and Consequences

by mmagicwolf and WickerChair

Chapter Thirty: Your Mission, If You Choose to Accept It

Saturday, 22 June, 1991

The telephone rang at five o'clock and roused Raoul Chaput from the depths of sleep and the arms of his wife. He was alert almost immediately, a legacy of five years as a Wiro and ten years before that as member of the French Special Forces. "Chaput," he growled into the handset.

"Raoul, I need you to be in Amsterdam by noon," announced a chirpy voice.

Raoul groaned inwardly. He recognized that voice. Margreta Potter, known and feared by Wiro teams worldwide as Greta, was known for her cheerful disregard for time zones and sleeping requirements. She was responsible for dispatching operatives of Potters, Ltd and had an uncanny ability to rouse the target of her communication from a sound sleep. "Amsterdam, noon," Raoul acknowledged the important parts of the message. "Mission parameters?" he asked, slipping into old habits.

"Escort Takumi Tsubo, Warato of the Japanese branch, from Schiphol to Heathrow. Be careful, Warato Tsubo has an uncanny ability to cause havoc. He will be arriving from Narita on the KLM flight, he has an hour layover then the flight continues to Heathrow. He will be accompanied by his grand-nephew Ryoku, who has meetings scheduled with the ICW."

"The ICW meets in Paris this year, n'est ce pas?"

"True, but Ryoku's primary purpose in traveling is to keep his great-uncle out of trouble. The last time Warato Tsubo was unaccompanied, he disappeared for two months. His presence was requested by Heilende André Durian on behalf of Lord Arcturus Black. I don't think he would disappear under the circumstances, but it is better to be sure."

"Oui, I understand. Escort Warato Tsubo to Heathrow. Anything else?"

"Your flight will be met by Liam Potter and André Durian. I realize that this is a week earlier than you would normally arrive in Britain, but you might be able to discover some new information." Greta shifted emphasis, "Have you been able to locate any trace of Remus Lupin in France?"

"Non. I suspect that he might be technically within the borders of Andorra rather than France, but I have been unable to get any proof one way or the other. His family will not respond to queries about his current location or activities." Raoul returned to the current misison, "Do I make my own way to Amsterdam?"

"You may access any of the Potters, Ltd resources necessary. I know that you will not draw attention to yourself," stated Greta.

"But, of course, Greta," Raoul acknowledged the unsubtle threat. "I will, of course, apparate to the Potters, Ltd office in Amsterdam. I can take a taxi to Schiphol from there. I should be there by eleven."

"Excellent. Give your wife my greetings," said Greta as she hung up the telephone.

Raoul immediately hung up the telephone, only to lift the receiver again and dial the telephone number of the local office of Potters, Ltd.

The weekend staff answered immediately, "Oui?"

"Contact the Amsterdam office, s'il vous plais? I will need a taxi from their office to Schiphol to arrive by noon."

"But of course, Monsieur Chaput. One moment please."

Raoul waited for the call to be made and noticed that his wife was awake.

Marielle Chaput sat up in the bed next to Raoul. "Greta?" she asked quietly, noting he still held the telephone.

"Oui, an escort mission to Britain. I will stay until after meeting with my contacts."

"Monsieur Chaput?"

"Oui," responded Raoul as he gathered his wife to his side.

"The Amsterdam office is expecting you at ten. Good hunting."

"A brief hunt but successful, I hope," responded Raoul, completing the formula, and hung up the telephone.

Marielle snuggled her head more closely against his chest, "I will miss you. But at least this time you will only be gone two weeks, oui?"

"Perhaps less," acknowledged Raoul. "It depends upon whether my contact is able to meet on schedule. Do you wish anything to be brought from Britain?"

"Only you, mon amor."

Further conversation was postponed while Raoul and Marielle gave each other memories to last the two weeks that he would be away.

~O~

Raoul apparated into the Amsterdam office of Potters, Ltd much more cheerful than he might have been. He was somewhat annoyed that he would be spending an extra week away from his wife, but their bond would hold and the separation would make the homecoming more spectacular.

"Monsieur Chaput?" asked the guard at the apparation point.

"Oui, Raoul Chaput, Wiro team five, on assignment from Greta."

The guard winced at the name. "Is she as bad as everyone says?"

"I have yet to receive a telephone call from Greta when I was awake. I hear rumors that the only one who has every done so is Liam Potter himself."

"I'm not sure which is worse," admitted the guard. "Your taxi is waiting outside. Do you have your muggle passport and identification papers?"

"But of course, have a good day," responded Raoul politely and left the office.

~O~

The taxi ride to Schiphol was uneventful, but Raoul's sense of impending doom increased with every mile. He arrived at the airport, presented his passport and received his boarding pass in return. Contemplating additional evidence of Greta's efficiency as he walked to the central plaza, Raoul wondered why he was experiencing such a strong feeling of doom. Each step he took toward the first-class lounge increased his trepidation. Something was screaming that he was going to regret accepting this mission, but as he really had no choice he couldn't see what he could have done differently.

As soon as he entered the first-class lounge for KLM, he realized why he had the sense of doom. Standing at the window, overlooking the activity of the airport was an elderly Japanese man watched over by a younger man whose coat did not quite conceal his weaponry. Two other men in the lounge also raised alarms; they were not overtly dangerous, but Raoul was aware of their potential. His eye caught the glint of gold and blue, but even the symbol of other Wiros did not reassure him. He understood why alarms were still going off in his mind the moment the elderly man moved.


End file.
